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 C3 
 
A lege:s^d 
 
 OF 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS, 
 
 EDIIED BY 
 
 MRS ALEXANDER ROSS, 
 
 AntJtor of "Violet Keith," ^c. 
 
 'The night cometh wet with dew ; 
 Oh ! Father, let Thy light shine through." 
 
 MONTREAL: 
 
 rUBLISHED BY a'. A. STEVENSON, 
 
 ^'o. 245 Saint James Street, 
 
Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada in the year on. 
 thouBand eight hundred and seventy-three, by Mrs. Eli.en Ross. 
 in .the Office of the Minister of Agriculture. 
 
 (lOPYRIGHT SKCURED IN THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 I 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGK. 
 
 The Old HoL'SB AT Leith 3 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 Sabbath IN THK Woods, The gates op Zion 32 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 Who hath begotten the onoi'S of dew ? 55 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 A Faithful Sehvant 67 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Lady Gordon's Will 75 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 ■Saunders Mitchell 95 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Hugh Sbaton 106 
 
 CHAPTER Vni. 
 The Voyage .., 112 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 "Governesses. Early Shop Shutting 139 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Isle Jesus 151 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 A Marriage at Thurlow 18G 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Montreal 200 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 Tempted ofi the Devil 234 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 The Indian's Hut 251 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 The pace that troubled him 270 
 
 a 2 
 
ii INDEX. 
 
 PAOE-. 
 
 CHAPTER XVr. 
 The Convent OF Thk Holy Cross 318" 
 
 CHAPTER XVH. 
 Lost Letters. A Dilemma 390 
 
 CHAPTER XVHI. 
 A Walk from the Post Office 413- 
 
 CHAPTER XLX. 
 The Indian's Willow Pit 434 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 Deep in the Mirk 449- 
 
 CHAPTER XXT. 
 An interview with the Prioress op. The Holy Cross 458" 
 
 CHAPTER XXH. 
 The Prison. A Sorb Temptation 468 
 
 CHAPTER XXUT. 
 Worshipping The Great Spirit. The Sacrifice op the White Dog. 483- 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 The Court Hocse 49 6": 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 Sir Reginald Gordon 511 
 
 CHAPTER XXVL 
 Once more on the Sea .• 54 3: 
 
 CHAPTER XXVn. 
 Footprints in the Snow , 565 
 
 CHAPTER XXVni. 
 A startling Rencontre 575 
 
 CHAPTER XXLX. 
 Marion's Dream. What -came of it 588 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 *' At Evening Time it shall he Light 1 " 622 
 
CO 
 
 cz: 
 
 C3 
 
^rrmn0% 
 
 
 THE GRAl^D G0ED0:N'S. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CO 
 C3 
 
 
 "So giveth He Ilis beloved sleep." 
 
 HE doctor bade me open the window as wido 
 ,/(3j as possible, and with noiseless steps I crossed 
 
 the room and did his behest ; little good did 
 the open window do the sick woman who was 
 passing from Time to Eternity in the curtained bed 
 opposite. 
 
 The air was so thick and heavy that it did not stir 
 a single leaf on the elm whose branches almost 
 touched the window panes, and the night so black 
 that it made me shrink and think of " that darkness 
 w^hich can be felt ;" not a star in the heavens — not a 
 light in the neighbours' houses — not a sound to be 
 heard save the moaning of the sea as she dashed her 
 billows upon the great rocks away down on the shore 
 beneath, obeying the command, and doing the w^ork 
 set her by the Eternal so many thousand years ago. 
 
 I turned from the eerie sound to look on the pale 
 
4 
 
 THE OUAND GORDONS. 
 
 quiet face, and listen to the deep, though not laboured 
 breathing of her who lay in that curtained room ; one 
 who had long since found the pearl of great price, 
 one who long ago could read her title clear to the 
 mansion the Son of God went to prepare for those 
 who desire to dwell therein, and yet, oh mighty 
 human love, whose spirit could not pass to the better 
 land, held by the strong cords of love to one, who all 
 in that quiet household but the dying mother, deemed 
 the inmate of an Eastern grave. 
 
 A year before, when that sad letter came telling of 
 her death, and Marion's tearo fell like rain, Marion 
 whom I never saw weep before or since, the mother 
 laid her hand on the black-edged missive which told 
 the sad tale, and although her troubled brow spoke 
 of anguish too deep for tears, her unfaltering voice 
 And firm lip first said those words so familiar now, 
 
 *' Tiny is not dead," 
 And the last words we heard her utter long after we 
 thought her tongue was powerless for evermore, the 
 deathless human love she held in her soul once more 
 concentrating itself in speech clear and strong, 
 
 " Marion, obey my will in the spirit and the letter, 
 Tiny is not dead, she will yet come home." 
 
 Marion and the doctor stood one on each side of 
 the bed, the doctor no mere hired leech, but the old 
 and tried friend of her who lay there dying. 
 
 The ticking of the great clock in the hall was 
 distinctly heard, no other sound broke the silence, 
 
THE OliAND OOllDONS. 
 
 the dying woman's eyes fixod upon a cabinet picture 
 of her daughter, the i'ace one of almost perfect beauty, 
 the light seemed to stream through the pale brown 
 curls which fell on the pictured neck, imparting to 
 them a gleam of gold, a most bewitching smile played 
 upon the lips, and yet in the deep grey eyes there 
 seemed a touch of sadness, which used sometimes to 
 make me fancy that in her far off spirit home she 
 knew and sorrowed for the delusion of her mother. 
 
 We were startled by loud and hurried rapping at 
 the hall door, a quick and yet hea\ j +^ep on the stair- 
 case ; a moment more and a young u ^an stood in the 
 doorway whom 1 at once recognized as Lady Or^ ijon's 
 son by his likeness t> the piciuro Oearhig Lis name in 
 the lining room. 
 
 He stood half inside the door glaring, (yes glaring 
 is the only word by which I can convey my impres- 
 sion of his countenance while looking on his dying 
 mother's face) evidently but half comprehending 
 what he saw. 
 
 Marion went towards him making a motion as she 
 did so. 
 
 " Is Mamma dead ?" inquired he in a husky voice, 
 without paying the least attention to the " hush " of 
 Marion which was given both with voice and gesture 
 ore he was able to make the inquiry. 
 
 Marion shook her head, the doctor turning towards 
 him held up his forefinger, an action which the 
 young man i^robably did not see as his attention 
 was evidently drawn towards Marion, of whom he 
 
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 6 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 ! I 
 
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 demanded in rones a little louder than before, talking* 
 Avith a rapidity of utterance, and a gesture of impa- 
 tience ill in accordance with the time and place. 
 
 "Why did you frighten me so by that horrible 
 telegram ? I fancied Mamma was dead." 
 
 "You were sent for by Lady Gordon's order," 
 replied Marion in suppressed tones, endeavouring at 
 same time to draw him from the room. 
 
 He rudely shook oflf the hand which she had 
 placed on his arm and coming towards the bed, with 
 a heavy tread, giving the doctor whom he evidently 
 had not previously recognized a slight nod, he knelt 
 down beside the bed and placing both his hands on 
 his mother's arm, looked in her face, saying in an 
 inquiring tone, 
 
 " You are better. Mamma ? That telegram gave me 
 such a fright ; I have been travelling by express day 
 and night since I received it, I was so frightened I 
 could not eat." 
 
 He was recognized, a faint smile passed over the 
 dying w' oraan's face, she essayed to speak but the 
 power of speech had passed away forever. 
 
 The boy, or rather young man rose and seated 
 himself by the bod close to his mother's head, still 
 keeping one of his hands on her recumbent arm, and 
 Marion resumed her place by her dying mistress' 
 bedside. 
 
 As she did so Lady Gordon's eye sought her's with 
 a look of such intelligence that no words were needed 
 
THE GRAND GORUOiNh. 
 
 »» 
 
 to convey its meaning to her faithful servant ; Marion 
 knelt down and clasping her hands said in a low clear 
 voice, her lips almost close to her Ladyship's ear, as 
 if she wished to be heard by her, and by her alone. 
 
 " I will wait all the days of my life here, till Miss 
 Tiny comes home." 
 
 She was heard and understood, Lady Gordon's eyes 
 again sought her daughter's pictured face, and her 
 g'aze was fixed there after her spirit had departed on 
 its journey through the valley of the shadow; so 
 quickly did she go on her way that it was only when 
 the troubled look which had clouded her brow for so 
 many long years gave place to one of perfect peace, 
 that the doctor laid down on the white quilt the 
 worn wrist he held in his hand for the last half hour, 
 counting the life pulse flying, flying, and Marion and 
 I knew she had passed away. 
 
 Marion threw her linen apron over her head and 
 still kneeling for a few minutes indulged her grief 
 for her who had been both friend and mistress. The 
 doctor lilted the hand he had just laid down and 
 addressing the dead, said 
 
 " Farewell, Lady Grordon, my tried friend in life, 
 beloved in death. Blessed be Grod that He gave you 
 His own Son as your stay in this life and your guide 
 to the eternal shore." 
 
 The doctor left the house, Marion still continuing 
 to kaeel with covered head by the body of her 
 mistress. I myself almost stupified with grief for 
 ^he loss of the only one who had invariably treated 
 
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 1. 
 
 [ 
 
 8 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 me justly and lovingly, the only one who had ever 
 taken the trouble to point out to me the faulty side^ 
 of my character, the way to mend these faults, and 
 far above all else the one who taught me to go on my 
 way rejoicing, to rest with full faith on His promise- 
 — " I have called thee by thy name ;" — " I come that 
 ye might have Life, and that ye might have it more 
 abundantly," and together with these reminiscences 
 came thoughts of the solemn promise I had giA'^en 
 to the woman just now dead, the responsibility I had 
 voluntarily taken upon myself, and I put the startling- 
 question to my soul. 
 
 " How is that promise to be fulfilled ?" 
 
 I was aroused from my revery by Sir Robert walk- 
 ing across the room with a heavy tread. He sat down: 
 on a sofa opposite his mother's bed and covering his 
 face with his hands, exclaimed aloud " Mama, Mama,, 
 what shall I do ? Reddy, Tiny and Mamma all gone." 
 
 His words aroused Marion from her prayer or her- 
 Borrow whichever it was she indulged in, and throw- 
 ing the apron from her head she stood up, not a trace 
 to be seen of the anguish which had overspread her 
 face for the last eight or ten hours ; she was now the- 
 same firm, almost stern-looking middle aged woman 
 she had appeared since I first saw her three years- 
 before. 
 
 *' You had better go to the library. Sir Robert," said 
 Marion, going up to where the boy still sat, " where- 
 Miss St. Clair will make tea for you." While she 
 spoke she looked towards me as if desiring me to- 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 9 
 
 do as she said I would, " this room must be put in 
 order at once as befits the rank of your lady mother.'^ 
 
 Thus admonished I did her bidding as I had been 
 taught to do from the fiist hour I saw her; although 
 in my capacity of companion and amanuensis I was 
 tacitly allowed to be Marion's superior, yet I together 
 with all others in the house paid the same deference 
 to her commands as we paid to those of Lady Gordon, 
 
 Sir Robert sat down to the tea table, broke a piece 
 of bread into small bits, drank a mouthful of tea, and 
 then rising up left the house saying, 
 
 " I'll be back in an hour or two." 
 
 On his departure I ascended to Lady Gordon's 
 room, opening the door softly as we do when the 
 dead lie within, as if we dreaded disturbing the ear 
 which the loudest trumpet blast ever pealed on earth 
 would fail to move; everything in that cold room 
 white and rigid — Marion seated close by the head of 
 the corpse, her open Bible, above which her hands 
 were clasped, laid on her knee, her eyes fixed where 
 two hours before, her mistress' had been on Mrs. 
 Percy's pictured face, the only uncovered thing in 
 the room. 
 
 I was about to withdraw as noiselessly as I had 
 entered, when Marion observing me, beckoned with 
 her finger for me to approach. 
 
 " Miss St. Clair " said she in a low yet clear voice^ 
 " I know of the promise you made to her who is now 
 in eternity, I only learnt it yesterday, would to God 
 
"Trr 
 
 10 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 J !' 
 
 she had^^iven me your work to do instead of my own, 
 but no doubt she judged right, they will hear you 
 who would not hear me ; may the Lord give you 
 grace of soul and strength of body to perform what 
 you have undertaken; and the more to strengthen 
 you in your purpose I will tell you of a great change 
 which has taken place in my own mind." 
 
 " You know that when Lady Gordon used to speak 
 €0 confidently of Tiny's being still alive 1 never 
 answered, I could not think as her Ladyship did and 
 therefore could not answer ; last night when kneeling 
 by her bed the grace was given me to believe the 
 truth ; as surely as the bright stars are hid by that 
 black night" as she spoke, she pointed with uplifted 
 hand out to the darkness seen through the window 
 I had opened several hours before, and which still 
 remained as I had left it, the darkness intense as 
 ever, " so surely is Miss Grordon still alive, and with 
 the Lord's help I trust she will yet come home. Go 
 now and rest, Annie will sit up and give Sir llobert 
 his supper when he comes in, if he will take any, 
 which I fear he will not ; he has gone to the Baird 
 Hills, it is a fashion of his to go there when he is in 
 trouble." 
 
 " I will sit here with you Marion," I replied, " were 
 1 to go to bed I could not sleep ; after all the excite- 
 ment I have passed through I could not even lie in 
 bed." 
 
 " You can go to the library then, and take the best 
 of all books with you and read His word therein, but 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 11 
 
 here you cannot stay, I must wake Lady Gordon 
 alone to-night, to-morrow the Gordons and Seatons 
 will come to watch their dead." 
 
 I again sought the library, and sitting down on a 
 low fauteinl in front of the fire endeavoured to realize 
 to myself that the one I had attended for three years 
 every day, almost every hour, was now lying cold and 
 dead, and that her death had changed all my future 
 life. Unconsciously I began in the same train of 
 thought to hold a retrospective review of the events 
 which had happened in Lady Gordon's family since 
 first I entered it, ascending the door steps and knock- 
 ing at the door with such a palpitating heart as I 
 went to answer her advertisement, lest the same 
 answer should be given as I had listened to so often, 
 ^' I w^ant one w^ho can make dresses, one who can 
 push her needle well." 
 
 Alas ! how often and how bitterly I regretted my 
 inability to do so, but at last I had found a home, my 
 acquirements were just such as Lady Gordon wanted ; 
 ^' one who could read and write," and she added " play 
 a little to amuse her two grandchildren," And then my 
 salary, how my heart bounded when the gentle Lady 
 asked me " if forty pounds would be enough?" enough I 
 how many others had told me twenty was too much ; 
 with forty pounds I could board and clothe Ella and 
 saA^e money for her education, my own clothing would 
 net cost much. Ella had never seen Mama, the 
 sorrow of that parting at least was si)ared her, and now 
 
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 r< i 
 
 I ^ 
 
 12 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS 
 
 she would never be tossed about as I had been, not if 
 I could keep my situation, and oh I would strive so 
 hard to do that. 
 
 My first day in the house came back as fresh as 
 yesterday, when Lady Gordon endeavouring to make 
 me feel at home, pointed out to me the beautiful 
 picture of her daughter, then a girl in her eighteenth 
 year, whose blue silk dress contrasted well with the 
 grey old walls by which she stood, the brown pony 
 whose neck she fondly patted, her own golden curls 
 as bright and more beautiful than the plumage of the 
 pheasant who tamely perched beside her on the stone 
 balustrade of the castled home she called her own ; she 
 was mother to those two good and lovely children who 
 made music and light in the old house at Leith when I 
 entered it ; my chief occupation there, to write every 
 evening a diary of all that happened during the day, 
 especially noting the sayings and doings of the twin 
 boy and girl, that by each mail it might be sent to 
 their young mother in her Indian home. 
 
 This used to be done by Lady Gordon herself, but 
 a rheumatic affection of the nerves in both hands, 
 prevented her from using her pen except in letter 
 writing, ultimately I was entrusted with this also ; 
 I was not many weeks in the house when I knew 
 that Captain Percy was no favourite ; Lady Gordon 
 never spoke of him. I do not know that in the first 
 year of my residence in Leith I ever heard her men- 
 tion his name ; Marion was less reticent, and scrupled 
 not at times to give utterance to her thoughts, never 
 
 I r 
 
 I 
 
 I I 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 13 
 
 in her mistress' presence, however ; yet I knew well 
 that Marion's words were but a faint echo of Lady 
 Gordon's feelings. 
 
 Long loving letters came from India so regularly, 
 written in that pretty round half school girl hand 
 which seemed to sort so well with the girlish look- 
 ing face in both portraits, the last although taken in 
 her twenty-second year, just previous to her leaving 
 her mother's home, as it would now appear, for 
 ever, notwithstanding its grave half sad eyes, looking 
 as girlish in face and figure as that taken in her 
 eighteenth year. Again before I became an inmate 
 of the old house the twin children arrived in the first 
 year of their age accompanied by their portly French 
 nurse Madame Peltier, who was still their attendant 
 now that they lived at Morningside, and had taken 
 care that her foster children learned her own 
 language as fast as they did their mother's tongue. 
 
 Lady Grordon's bad health at last impaired her 
 sight and for a year she was quite blind ; during this 
 time the letters from India came with only the 
 London postmark, having been enclosed by Captain 
 Percy to his lawyer there. These letters seemed to 
 me less hopeful than the first I used to read for her 
 Ladyship, and instead of the paper being full every 
 inch as formerly, they suddenly dwindled down to 
 a page and a-half ; at last one page contained all, the 
 style constrained and stiff, so unlike the loving letters 
 which used to speak to her mother and children in 
 such graphic, strong words: as I read those last 
 
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 If! 
 
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 14 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 letters many a sigh did the poor blind mother give 
 for the restoration of eye and limb promised by her 
 physician as a reward for her patience, if she would 
 only be patient and do his bidding for a year. Her 
 feet as well as her hands were now almost useless, 
 never captive in dungeon hold sighed more for free- 
 dom and light than did that mother in her spacious 
 chamber sigh for strength to walk and power of 
 sight ; how often have I heard her say " When the 
 Lord gives me my sight and strength again, the first 
 use I will make of them will be to go to India and 
 see my child." She never doubted that sight and 
 strength would both come ; and so they did, but too 
 late to see her she loved so well. 
 
 Those constrained letters received now at long 
 intervals instead of by each mail as formerly, seemed 
 to me to be more a copy of Mrs. Percy's writing than 
 her own, and I mentioned this several times to Lady 
 Gordon, her reply was always the same. 
 
 " I dare say she probably cares little how they are 
 written." 
 
 Time passed on and Lady Gordon received her 
 sight and strength only to read Captain Percy's 
 letter informing her of his wife's death, a letter 
 written three months after that event was said to 
 have taken place ; I shall ever remember the exag- 
 gerated language it was couched in. 
 
 " My misery is complete — my despair is beyond the 
 power of endurance — do not be surprised if you hear 
 of my death ;" many lines of such stuff, and then " I 
 
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 Mi 
 
 1 i 
 
 lyy, 
 
 k. 
 
THE OUAND GORDONS. 
 
 15. 
 
 sail with the same ship which brings you this that I 
 may take my children to my bosom never to part 
 w^ith them, they are all now left to your most 
 wretched son-in-law, Bertram Percy," and then the 
 unique postscript " You will regret to learn that my 
 sweet babe was carried off by the same fell disease 
 which robbed me of my adored Margaret." 
 
 I read the letter aloud as I had done so many, and 
 then Lady Gordon re-read it, without a tear or a sigh. 
 
 She had been earnestly warned not to overtask her 
 new found sight, but that letter had aroused a 
 suspicion which it seemed in her own power to allay 
 or confirm, and all other considerations were light 
 in comparison, w^ere unthought of, and going to the 
 secretary where her daughter's letters were kept, she 
 read over every one w^hich had been received since 
 her failing sight obliged her to trust to my eyes 
 instead of her own; after doing this, in the most 
 composed manner she laid her hand upon the letters, 
 the black-edged one the uppermost, saying with 
 unfaltering lip and unmoistened eye "Tiny is not 
 dead, these letters were never written by her." 
 
 Mr. Morton was then sent for, w^ho if he did not 
 coincide with Lady Gordon in her belief of Mrs. 
 Percy being still alive, said nothing to the contrary. 
 He was a dear friend of the family, and while reading 
 the black-edged letter his face became pale ^s death ; 
 the other letters he was sure were never written by 
 Tiny, as he called her ; but the signature of each 
 seemed hers, the word Tiny which was the only 
 
'P^^-' 
 
 16 
 
 THE GRAND QORDONS. 
 
 I 
 
 I i 
 1 • 
 
 i \ 1 
 
 1 ; I 
 
 (f 
 
 signature they had, was in all the letters received for 
 years back the same as in those of later date. 
 
 Lady Gordon would have gone to Calcutta to find 
 her daughter whom she never for a moment classed 
 among the dead, but Mr. Morton pointed out to her 
 that Captain Percy would most likely arrive in the 
 course of a day or two, as his letter implied ; he 
 should be met with guile for guile ; his object in 
 coming was most likely to make some bargain with 
 her for the possession of the children now nearly four 
 years of age, and whom he would probably remove 
 to his own home wherever that was, unless convinced 
 that they would not be brought back, no one could 
 persuade him of this unless her Ladyship did so by 
 deeds not words. 
 
 That very day the children were sent to board with 
 Miss Maitland, an old friend of the family, by whom 
 they were well cared for ; next day Lady Grordon 
 made her will, in ten days after Captain Percy 
 arrived. 
 
 He was shewn into the sitting parlour ; I was in the 
 cabinet room between it and Lady Gordon's bedroom, 
 busy making up accounts, and getting all things in 
 readiness for the voyage to India (on which I was to 
 accompany her Ladyship) when he entered, my seat 
 placed so that I could see nearly all that happened 
 on one side of the parlour. 
 
 From Marion's description I knew who he was 
 immediately, short, thickset, lank fair hair, no 
 whiskers, no beard; had I been an unprejudiced 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 17 
 
 
 observer which I certainly was not, I do not think the 
 impression his appearance produced would have been 
 at all favourable. 
 
 He went up to the cabinet picture of his wife which 
 then hung in the little parlour ; drawing up his under 
 lip below his teeth until not a particle of it was 
 visible, he eyed the mild face with a horrible look of 
 silly exultation, pointing at it with his forefinger : as 
 he turned from the picture his eye encountered my 
 own fixed upon him in the pier glass, his face 
 -expressed anger, he knew I had seen the grimace he 
 made. I thought of the Apostle's words " Spots and 
 blemishes beguiling unstable souls ; an heart exer- 
 cised with covetous practices, cursed children, wells 
 without water ;" and I shuddered as I remembered 
 the context " the mist of darkness." 
 
 Lady Grordon entered the parlour by passing 
 through the room in which I sat, and bade me 
 remain there until her visitor departed ; I could not 
 help contrasting the tall portly lady in her handsome 
 weeds with her short homely looking son-in-law, and 
 wondering what infatuation could have tempted her 
 beautiful daughter to unite herself to such a man, his 
 manners must certainly have been most fascinating to 
 induce a beautiful girl to leave her home where she 
 was surrounded by every luxury suited to her rank, 
 or else we must account for it as the French do in 
 such cases " une mauvaise destine." 
 
 As Lady Gordon entered, her son-in-law approached 
 
 with a sorrowful countenance, his hand extended as 
 
 B 
 
ff^ 
 
 I. 
 
 18 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 I I 
 
 ■ 
 
 ! ( 
 
 t 
 
 ! I 
 
 I i 
 
 f i 
 
 i t 
 
 if he would raise her Ladyship's to his lips ; without 
 Beemini^ to notice his advances she gracefully avoided 
 any near contact with his person ; he was evidently 
 conscious of this, but as I watched his countenance 
 I fancied he seemed more amused than hurt by her 
 dislike. 
 
 A pier glass placed between the windows of the 
 parlour and reaching from floor to ceiling enabled 
 me from where I sat in the cabinet to observe every 
 motion of both occupants of the room, and Lady 
 Gordon's command as she i)assed through left me an 
 unseen listener. 
 
 They had scarcely passed the common compliments 
 of greeting when he asked for his children. 
 
 " I sent them out to board when I received your 
 black-edged letter," was her Ladyship's reply, spoken 
 in a stately dignified way no one knew better how to 
 assume. 
 
 lie seemed completely taken aback, he had never 
 calculated on such a proceeding, and for a second or 
 two he made no response, becoming red and white 
 by turns as different emotions swayed his mind ; he 
 seemed to be thinking what to say ; at last he spoke 
 in what he must have meant for a half conciliatory » 
 half offended air. 
 
 " What did you mean by doing that, Lady Gordon T* 
 *' I meant that I do not wish to have either the trouble 
 or expense of keeping other people's children." 
 
 If he was surprised before, the feeling was not 
 lessened now, he replied in a less confident manner ; 
 
 111 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 19 
 
 '■'% 
 
 " I thought you were so much attached to tho 
 children iiothiu^* could induce you to part with them." 
 
 " You are both right and wrong in your analysis of 
 my feelings. They are sweet children and I lovo 
 them dearly, but they are yours not mine, a father is 
 undoubtedly tho best person to bring; up his own 
 children." 
 
 " That is true, but your Ladyship is aware that my 
 finances are very -limited ; you were accustomed 
 during the life time of my dear departed wife," hero 
 he produced a spotlessly white pocket handkerchief 
 with a black border, which he applied to his eyes. I 
 thoi ht of the pantomime I had witnessed opposite 
 the i)icture. Lady Gordon's compressed lips and 
 lowered brow expressed the contempt she felt. With 
 a deeply audible sigh he released his imprisoned eyes 
 and resumed his speech exactly where he left off, as 
 if it was something he had learned by rote " to send 
 us continual tokens of your regard, without which 
 my dear Margaret could not have had the luxuries 
 or the attendance I desired for her ; my income is not 
 increased, how do you think it is possible I can pay 
 board for the children ?" 
 
 " I do not think it desirable that you should ; every 
 father should have his children in his own house and 
 under his own care" was her Ladyship's reply, uttered 
 with a tone and look of cool indifference. 
 
 " I have no one who will care for the children 
 now, do you think it advisable to intrust them to the 
 charge of servants ?" 
 
ff 
 
 CO 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 il! 
 
 
 P 
 
 i 
 
 i i 
 
 ;1 i 
 
 iHi 
 
 
 ' ; M 
 
 ■ *>' 
 
 
 
 t ( 
 
 flllHt 
 
 
 ■ f 
 
 hi 
 
 " "Where is the widowed sister you talked of a? 
 likely to make your house her home in case you 
 settled in Britain after your marriage ? Her presence 
 seems to be more necessary to your welfare now than 
 before." 
 
 He paused for a second or two and then drawled 
 out '• She — is — married." 
 
 Her Ladyship made no answer ; a long pause 
 broken by Captain Percy, saying " perhaps the best 
 thing I can do is to follow her example. What does 
 your Ladyship think of that ?" 
 
 " I have too many affairs of my own to attend to 
 and think of, consequently I cannot spare time to 
 think over your future; and were' it otherwise it 
 would be highly impertinent in me to interfere in 
 what cannot possibly concern me." 
 
 He was unprepared for this, and again at a loss for 
 an answer ; at last it came. 
 
 " Your Ladyship was not equally indifferent to my 
 last marriage." 
 
 To his surprise doubtless, as well as mine. Lady 
 Gordon returned no answer either by word or sign, 
 merely leaned back in her chair and continued look- 
 ing in his face, with the same haughty, cold expression 
 she had worn on her entrance, recovering himself he 
 added hastily " I wish I could, but no, it is impossible 
 for me to forget, where I love I love for ever." 
 
 He sat with his body bent down over his hands, 
 those clasped together held his black bordered pocket 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 21 
 
 handkerchief, his knees pressed close to each other 
 while his feet extended so as to form a V, the lower 
 and inner edge of the foot alone touching the floor. 
 The appearance he presented seemed in my eyes to 
 be nearer that of a swollen frog, than an officer in 
 Her Majesty's service, married to the beautiful young 
 original ot the cabinet picture opposite ; seated as he 
 was with his head bent down he could not see the 
 expression of contempt and scorn which played on 
 Lady Gordon's face as she kept her gaze intently 
 fixed on him, but without seeing her Ladyship's 
 countenance he was evidently ill at ease, he probably 
 realized from former experience what emotions his 
 presence gave rise to. 
 
 Finding that his declaration of love unchangeable 
 had not the desired effect, he sighed very audibly, 
 and with a pathetic voice requested that Marion 
 should be allowed to accompany him to Miss Mait- 
 land's, that he might see his children. 
 
 To this Lady Gordon gave a cold assent, and 
 accompani id by Marion he took his departure, thus 
 ended this most extraordinary interview. 
 
 During the drive to Morningside he expressed to 
 Marion his surprise that Lady Gordon could bear to 
 be parted from the children, asking her " What could 
 be the meaning of this most unnatural conduct?" 
 
 Marion replied that he must make this inquiry of 
 Lady Gordon ; adding, " I think her Ladyship likes 
 the children well enough, but all old people dislike 
 the trouble and noise of children." 
 
r'TfT 
 
 22 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 l-li 
 
 :;! 
 
 " Tiny made more noise with her piano and harp 
 than it is possible those two little things can make, 
 yet she did not tire of her. I never was more 
 astonished in my life than when I heard they had 
 been sent out to board ; I thought Lady Gordon 
 would have given half her income to keep them 
 with her." 
 
 To this Marion made no reply ; after a short pause 
 Captain Percy inquired, 
 
 " Why are you not in mourning for Mrs. Percy ? 
 I thought you loved her so much that you would 
 have mourned her all your life." 
 
 " You judged rightly there, I loved her in life and 
 I love her in death ; I love her now that she has for- 
 ever passed from my sight, better than I did when 
 she was a baby in my arms, but she was a grand 
 Gordon, I, a mere hired servant in her Lady mother's 
 house. In Scotland, such as I do not wear mourn- 
 ing for the house we serve unless desired to do so ; 
 Lady Gordon did not put any of her domestics in 
 mourning for her daughter, the children even have 
 not been put in mourning." 
 
 " Good Heavens ! What is the meaning of that ?" 
 inquired he, " what can Lady Gordon mean by such 
 unheard of neglect, my children not in mourning for 
 their mother ; this is absolutely monstrous." 
 
 " There has not been much time lost," was Marion's 
 qaiet response, " in a few hours a mourning ware- 
 house will supply all their needs ; you have only to 
 leave your order " 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 23 
 
 <' My order ?" repeated he inquiringly, " surely 
 Lady Grordon does not expect me to clothe the 
 -children." 
 
 ♦* It is not for me to say what Lady Gordon's views 
 are on this or any other subject," repUed the house- 
 keeper, " but as her Ladyship is on the eve of setting 
 out for India, it would be impossible for her to exer- 
 cise the surveillance she has hitherto done over the 
 children, besides as she has given up her jointer 
 house and land to Sir Robert, her circumstances are 
 more circumscribed than formerly." 
 
 " Given up her jointer to Sir Robert !" repeated he, 
 in accents of indignant surprise, "what can have 
 induced her to do so ? If this be the case, she has 
 beggared herself for a blustering coarse fellow who 
 will give her no thanks, and will make the Hall a 
 receptacle for all the prize fighters in the country." 
 After a pause of a second or two, he resumed in a 
 less troubled tone, as if reassuring himself, " you 
 must be mistaken, Lady Gordon would never have 
 'done this." 
 
 " It has been done," replied Marion, in a decided 
 ione. " When her Ladyship received the account of 
 her daughter's death, she at once had her will made, 
 and gave up her jointer, so that all her affairs might 
 be in order should her death occur before her return 
 from India." 
 
 " Her return from India," reiterated he, as if only 
 then comprehending what he had been twice told. 
 "** What can induce her Ladyship to go there ?" 
 
^•7 
 
 1 ' 
 
 (I 
 
 jin 
 
 |;ili 
 
 t ? 
 
 24 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 " She goes to visit her daughter's grave ; did not 
 Lady Gordon tell you it is her intention to do so ?" 
 
 " Certainly not," was his reply. " If she had, I 
 would have informed her that she goes on a fruitless 
 errand. Mrs. Percy died in the interior, whither she 
 fled from the scourge by which she died. It was 
 with difficulty I succeeded in having her and her 
 child decently interred, deep enough to save, if 
 possible, their remains from being torn by wild 
 beasts ; since then many months have elapsed, and it 
 is matter of doubt if I could myself now find the place,. 
 nor am I certain that I ever really saw it ; wiien my wife 
 died I was confined to my bed by the same fell 
 disease which deprived me of wife and child, and. 
 had to trust to native servants what no one should 
 have done but myself; on my recovery, I was shewn 
 the place where they had been laid ten feet beneath 
 the soil ; it is in the jungle covered over by the rank 
 herbage of a tropical clime. Most assuredly, I could, 
 not now find it." 
 
 When they arrived at Morningside, and were shewn: 
 the children, he took little or no notice of either. What 
 he said and did seemed to be mere acting ; his mind, 
 was evidently preoccupied, and remaining only a few 
 minutes, he took a hurried leave, not observing or 
 pretending not to observe Marion's question as to>^ 
 whether he intended taking the children with him ; 
 and departing in the carriage provided by Lady 
 Gordon, left Marion to find her way to Leith as shft 
 best could. 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 2$ 
 
 On leaving Morningside, Captain Percy drove at 
 once to Roy and Morton's, and begging a private 
 interview of Mr. Morton, requested information as to 
 the terms of Lady Grordon's will, at the same time^ 
 informing him of the place and manner of Mrs. 
 Percy's interment, and how futile any attempt would 
 now be to find the exact place of sepulchre, hence 
 how very preposterous, as well as profitless takings 
 such a long and expensive journey as that meditated 
 by her Ladyship, would be. 
 
 Mr. Morton agreed entirely with him as to the use* 
 less nature of the proposed journey, particularly 
 under the circumstances, but also assuring him that 
 although Lady Gordon had been his unfailing friend 
 from boyhood upward, he would not take the liberty 
 of advising her Ladyship to alter her plans, adding, 
 " Lady Gordon has a most indomitable will, and I do- 
 not believe any argument whatever would have tha 
 effect of making a change in her plans." 
 
 Captain Percy sat for some minutes sucking hi* 
 under lip (a favorite employment of his) and then, 
 growled out, 
 
 " The will, what has she done about it ?" 
 Seeing he was not immediately answered, he^ 
 added in a more gentlemanly manner which he well 
 knew how to assume, " I understand she has given 
 her jointer house and lands to that uncultivated 
 colt, my dear brother-in-law ; how has she left the- 
 house in Leith, and her money?" 
 
 ** You must be aware," replied Mr. Morton, " that 
 

 rrT 
 
 S3 
 
 (', ! 
 
 ^■' 
 
 :i! 
 
 y 
 
 I 
 
 
 l\ 
 
 i! 
 
 26 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 I am not at liberty to answer your questions ; yet 
 what I can communicate without breach of trust, I 
 will. Lady Gordon has given over the life rent of 
 her jointer house and lands to her son, to whom they 
 of rig-ht belong" after her demise; the house and 
 grounds at Leith, together with the principal part of 
 her money, all of which is her own by right of 
 inheritance, will most likely ultimately, the first 
 become an alms-house, the latter endow the same." 
 
 Captain Percy's consternation seemed to have 
 Teached its climax ; he paced the office for a few 
 minutes, and then standing in front of the lawyer, 
 demanded in a bitter, mocking voice and manner, 
 
 " May I humbly ask what part of her charity is to 
 he given to her grandchildren, her darling Tiny's 
 children, what provision has been made for them ?" 
 
 The lawyer leant over his desk at which he was 
 seated, placing himself so as to look full in Captain 
 Percy's face as he spoke. 
 
 " I am not at liberty, as I said before, to disclose 
 the terms of Lady Gordon's will ; but one thing I hold 
 myself entitled to tell you, and I speak advisedly 
 when I say that Lady Gordon would approve of my 
 doing so; you need not count upon ever receiving 
 one pound of her Ladyship's money to assist you in 
 bringing up or educating your children, the last 
 remittance sent to Mrs Percy, which must have 
 reached you after her de^^th, and has not yet been 
 acknowledged, is the last money coming from Lady 
 Oordon you will ever touch." 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 27 
 
 Captain Percy stood drinking in each word the 
 lawyer said, with breathless attention, and then put- 
 tinar on his hat, without word or look of adieu, strode 
 from the office with all the importance his short, 
 thickset person was capable of. 
 
 He was not long in presenting himself at the old 
 house in Leith. 
 
 He was ushered into the inner drawing-room where 
 Lady Grordon was receiving the visits of condolence 
 of several ladies of her own rank ; she acknowledged 
 his entrance by a ceremonious stiff bow, and then 
 €ontinued her conversation with the former occupants 
 of the room. I was in the outer drawing-room busily 
 arranging some ferns which one of her Ladyship's 
 friends had brought a few minutes previously ; I fear 
 from the time I saw Captain Percy enter the drawing- 
 room, I spent more time in watching him than in 
 arranging the ferns. 
 
 At first he walked about from one occasional table 
 to another, examining books, prints and drawing port- 
 folios, gem cabinets, coin cabinets, and all the other 
 little objects of interest usually crowded into a draw- 
 ing-room ; evidently impatient and ill at ease, every 
 now and then constrained, as it were against his will, 
 to cast a disquieted glance at the picture in the blue 
 dress ; the light was placed in the eye of the picture 
 in such a way as made its gaze seem to follow you 
 wherever you went ; certain artists pride themselves 
 in this power, and I have seen the same effect pro- 
 duced in others since then, but in those days, I was 
 
(Tr 
 
 if 
 
 11 
 
 ■•'It- 
 
 i 
 
 28 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 younger in knowledge than in years, and noted this 
 peculiarity for the first time, almost fancying in my 
 wonder that some supernatural means made the 
 pictured face look down in her still beauty and follow 
 with her quiet gaze one whom we had cause to think 
 had " dealt deceitfully with the wife of his youth."^ 
 That Captain Percy noted this peculiarity, it was but 
 too e^ddent, and moved about uneasily under the 
 unconscious eye ever fixed upon him, every second 
 or two casting a hurried glance at the picture, I fancied 
 to see if its gaze still followed him, until one after 
 another of the visitors departed, leaving Lady Grordon 
 alone with her son-in-law. He at once stayed his 
 wandering feet and sat down on a sofa placed under 
 the picture, perhaps that he might not see it. Lady 
 Gordon took an arm chair opposite, and seating herself 
 with hands crossed one over the other, said as plainly 
 as looks can speak, " Say what you wish to say." He 
 did not keep her waiting long. 
 
 "Your Ladyship, I am told by your lawyer, intends 
 going to India to see Tiny's grave." 
 
 " You are both right and wrong ; I intend going^ 
 to India to bring Tiny home." 
 
 " Your Ladyship does not consider that in a tropical 
 climate, Tiny's body has ere this become food for 
 worms, and consequently it would be impossible to- 
 have it moved." 
 
 " I have well considered every phase of the subject ; 
 to-morrow I leave home, when I return, I will bring^ 
 Tiny with me." 
 
 
 m 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 29 
 
 "I am sorry to hear you speak thus, but it is 
 impossible I should give my consetit to disturb the 
 remains of my wife and child ; you certainly must 
 not attempt to commit what I have ever considered an 
 uct of sacrilege ; I cannot permit you to disturb their 
 ashes." 
 
 Lady Gordon gazed upon him without a sign of 
 amotion on her face, as she said very calmly, 
 
 " I never dreamt of asking your permission for any 
 act of mine ; when I do so, it will be time for you to 
 give a denial; have you forgotten that you told 
 Marion an hour since, you could not point out the 
 grave you are now so anxious to prevent being 
 opened ?" 
 
 " Lady Gordon," replied he, absolutely trembling 
 with excitement, *' I do not hold myself responsible 
 for the construction your servant may put upon my 
 w^ords; we will, therefore, pass to another subject. 
 Mr. Morton also informed me, you have cut off 
 your daughter's children without a shilling ; do you 
 mean by this most unnatural conduct to shew the 
 love you professed to have for your daughter ?" 
 
 " I mean 1o shew you that neither you nor your 
 children, considered as your children, can ever inherit 
 one pound of my money. I have many engagements 
 for to-day, you must excuse me : Good morning.'" 
 
 Rising, as she spoke, she left the room by a side 
 door near where she sat, lea"\dng her visitor looking 
 after her, with a countenance on which were depicted 
 
fT 
 
 (▼» 
 
 II! 
 
 BE 
 
 •\> 
 
 11 
 
 'it 
 
 li 
 
 i 
 
 H 
 
 I H! 
 
 80 
 
 THE GRAND OORDONS. 
 
 hate, revenge, fej,r commingling', each striving for 
 the mastery. 
 
 He continued sitting for several minutes after 
 Lady Gordon's departure, as if uncertain vs'hat to do ; 
 at last, rising up, he turned round to the picture in 
 front of which he sat, and looking up, shook his 
 clenched hand as close to the quiet face as his short 
 arm could reach. As he did so, Mr. Morton's tall, 
 handsome figure appeared, as if by magic, clos& 
 behind Captain Percy, and taking hold of his up- 
 lifted hand, forced it down by his side, saying as he 
 did so, " Man, man, don't lot your actions tell what 
 you would fear to put in words." 
 
 " I don't fear to put in words that I'll pay you off 
 some day," was his reply, uttered with a fierce 
 gesture of impatience, and spoken as he hurried from 
 the room ; in doing which he came in contact with 
 his wife's harp, which, like everything else that had 
 been called by her name, was kept in perfect order. 
 Whether by accident or design, the harp was over- 
 turned, and the strings so struck gave forth a wild 
 tumult of sound as if the harp too w^ould breathe 
 threatenings — against whom ? 
 
 I was so astonished by what I had seen, that I 
 never thought of getting up to lift the harp ; but it 
 ■was done without my help, Mr. Morton lifting it care- 
 fully as if it w^ere a thing of life, examining the 
 strings, and replacing the cover, which, in its fall» 
 had Been nearly dragged off; this done, he stood, for 
 a second or two, in front of the picture, and looking 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 81 
 
 up with an expression I lonjr^ remembered, said in a 
 low voice, " Tiny, Tiny," and turning, left the room. 
 
 Well might I remember every word I heard, every 
 action I saw that day,- ere its close, a stop was put to 
 our useless voyage in search of a nameless grave hid- 
 den in an Indian jungle ; Lady Gordon, half paralized, 
 was laid on a bed from which she never rose, a bed 
 that to her, ere another year, became the bed of death. 
 
 What am I thinking of ?— The bed of death?— 
 There is no death ; the stars go down to rise upon 
 some fairer shore ; — the dust we tread shall change 
 beneath the summer rain to rainbow tinted flowers or 
 golden fruit ; — the granite rocks as they disorganize 
 feed the green mogs they bear. It is true the leaves 
 and flowers fade and pass from our sight, but they only 
 wait through the wintry hours, the coming of the 
 May — an angel form walks the earth with silent 
 tread, and his steps make our hearts desolate, and he 
 take' from us our best loved — we look upon their 
 pale faces and call them dead — wKile they — freed 
 from sin and strife, sing the everlasting song with 
 joyous tones, under the many coloured leaves of the 
 tree of life — born into that undying life, they leave 
 us but to come again, and though our eyes are 
 holden that we may not see them, they .are ever near 
 us. All the Universe is full of life ; — verily there are 
 no dead ! 
 
^>I5XI5: 
 
 I ! 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 I ii 
 
 ' ! i 
 
 ' "This mom I heard the Sabbath bells 
 Across the breezy upland swells, — 
 My path lay down the woodland dells." 
 
 To-day I said the dust of creeds 
 
 The wind of words suit not my needs, 
 
 I worship with the birds, and weeds." — Kate Seymour. 
 
 But holier thoughts soon held their sway, 
 I churchward took my upward way, 
 I entered in God's house to pray. 
 
 It's very air was tremulous, 
 
 I felt the deep and reverend hush, 
 
 God burned before me in i.he bush. 
 
 IJI^ADY Gordon was now among those whom we 
 ^^ call dead, and her house was filled from mom 
 to night, and from night to morn again, with 
 ladies and gentlemen of her own and her husband's 
 name, who walked to and fro with noiseless steps, 
 speaking with husheu voices in holy reverence for 
 the body, she, they L-ad so loved and honoured for her 
 gentle, humble bearing and her high and holy 
 thoughts, had left behind her. 
 
 Every Grand Gordon in Edinburgh and Leith was 
 there, and all the proud Seatons, passing out and iu 
 
 !li 
 
©^ 
 
 Kate Seymour. 
 
 e whom we 
 from mom 
 again, with 
 r husband's 
 jeless steps, 
 vevence for 
 ured for her 
 and holy 
 
 d Leith was 
 : out and in 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 to the white draped chamber, and speakinpr in those 
 undertones words of love and kindness to the beauti- 
 ful boy and girl, whose long fair hair hanging over 
 thoir black drosses reminded each there of a lovelier 
 face than any either young or old of her race had 
 borne — now lying in an unmarked, lonely grave far 
 away beyond the rolling waves of the Indian Ocean. 
 
 I had nothing to employ my hands with during 
 those days of formal mourning ; Marion looked upon 
 these days as Sabbaths, and they were kept as such 
 by all the household, none but the most necessary 
 work being permitted to be done, hence employ- 
 ing myself with my needle was quite out of the 
 question ; my mixing with the stately guests would 
 have been simply craving notice from my superiors 
 in rank, which, from my early girlhood, I had 
 eschewed most sedulously ; and so, in all that mourn- 
 ing house, I was most lonely, and thrown back, as it 
 were, on my own thoughts, I began to realize to 
 what a life of lonely wandering T had most probably 
 doomed myself by my most unwise, solemn vow, and 
 I found it at first hard, and finally impossible to 
 prevent my thoughts from forming themselves into 
 good and valid excuses by which I might evade the 
 performance of this fatal promise, a promise which 
 the more I thought over it, the more wild and pre- 
 posterous it seemed ; until at last, it appeared almost 
 madness to attempt its performance. 
 
 Often during those two first weary days after her 
 Ladyship's death, I asked myself in all soberness, 
 
 
 
TI 
 
 FT 
 
 
 ^ ih; 
 
 11 
 
 « 6 
 
 !lih 
 
 34 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 •* Could Lady Gordon have been quite sane when she 
 exacted from me such a solemn vow, binding me 
 down to change all my future life, to leave Ella so- 
 near the time when (she well knew) we expected to- 
 be rewarded lor our long separation, and live in 
 pleasant work together — by this rash promise, turning 
 all Ella's sweet to bitter, as well as my own — or was; 
 she, as more than one of her friends had hinted, and 
 they those who loved her well, that on this subject 
 she was, in truth, a monomaniac '?" 
 
 The third morning came with " sunrise, silence 
 and deep peace," the hrst day of the week, the 
 blussed Sabbath morn, and I left the house in the 
 early morning, determined that that day I would 
 enter no church — I would seek no man's teaching — 
 I would go into the fields and woods which God had 
 made and seek Him there, and what the Lord would 
 say to me, that I would do. 
 
 I was under an evil influence, and it did not then 
 occur to me that it is written : " God loveth the gates 
 of Zion more than all the dwellings of Jacob." 
 
 I took my way through a neighbouring copse, in 
 the direction of Edinburgh ; the dew had not yet 
 left the fair lily and slender blue hyacinth, the morn- 
 ing glory (most appropriate name), was still blazing 
 forth in all its varied hues of purple and red, " the 
 burn running undar the lang yellow broom " leapt 
 and sang, the lark rising from her dewy nest, soared 
 towards the sun, thrilhng forth her notes of praise, — 
 the larch waved her green hair, and the beech twit- 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 85 
 
 tered her brown leaves — the solitary place was glad 
 — glad in Him whose goodness made them all, the 
 wild rose swung her fragrant vase, while the daisy 
 answered from her place half hid in the green sward: 
 " Praise Him whose ways are full of grace." 
 
 Just at the edge of the wood where the little bridge 
 formed of a single log crosses the burn, and divides 
 the wood above from the wood below, I was met by 
 Marion's father. 
 
 I was not surprised at seeing the old man there, — 
 the cottage where he and his wife lived since they 
 became too old to manage their farm, \i^as close by, 
 and I knew his habits led him early abroad ; but he 
 was evidently taken aback by seeing me emerging 
 from the wood, more than a mile from Lady Gordon's 
 house, so early on the Sabbath morning. 
 
 "Hoo's a' wi' ye, mem," said the old man, touch- 
 ing his bonnet, " are they a' weel at the big house ?" 
 
 " They are all well, Saunders, ' replied I, *' how arc 
 you yourself, and how is the goodwife." 
 
 *' Thank ye, mem, w i a' weel, praise be to the 
 Lord for a* thing. It's gaun to be a bonnie dj y I'm 
 thinkin, an I'ni glad o't, for I'm gaen to tr\ n gang 
 up to Embro' the d ly to the kirk ; it's likely that same 
 at's taen ye out 6a> early in the mornin'." As he 
 spoke, the old man 1 3oked inquiringly up in my face, 
 as if he expected an answer in the atfirmativo. 
 
 "No," replied I, " I am not goinr to Kdinburgh, 
 there is no one preachi?ig now in Edinburgh whom 
 
»lffl ,^^W' 
 
 36 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 f l» 
 
 I like so well to hear as our own minister in , 
 
 and I am not to hear any one preach to-day ; I have 
 come provided with my lunch, and I intend spending 
 the day in the woods." I saw the ook of unpleasant 
 surprise on the old man's face, which I might kc.^ j 
 been sure this speech of mine was calculated to bring 
 forth, and I added, as if exonerating myself from an 
 accusation, "I can worship Grod as well, perhaps 
 better, here, in this His own great Cathedral oi.> which 
 is never a door, and where Nature hfts up her bici'- 
 and woi ships with me ; where the trees of the io i -it 
 pray with folded palms, and each bird and insect sixign 
 psalms of a thousand notes — than in any temple made 
 by hands." ■ 
 
 Saunders took no notice of the last part of my 
 speech, but answering what I had said of the JJdin- 
 burgh ministers, said, 
 
 *' I daresay there was naebody preaching in Embro' 
 last Sabbath ye wad like better or get mair gude frae 
 than our ain godly minister, but I see frae what ye 
 sae the noo, 'at ye dinna ken 'at the Doctor's come 
 hame." 
 
 I knew well who " the Doctor " was, but did not 
 feel sure the information he gave could be relied on ; 
 it seemed too good news to be true. If I was only 
 sure of this, I would go up to Edinburgh and spend 
 the day there, and hear what Grod the Lord would 
 say to me through him who had so often been the 
 unwitting means of delivering a message frrni G^ou 
 unto me in psalm and text, in admonition and instruc- 
 
 m 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 37 
 
 [ to hiing 
 
 f from an 
 
 perhaps 
 
 01) which 
 
 her bit'"/ 
 the loi -it 
 Lsect sixign 
 ttple made 
 
 irt of my 
 1 the IJdin- 
 
 iii Embro' 
 
 ffude frae 
 
 e what ye 
 
 tor's come 
 
 at did not 
 rehed on ; 
 I was only 
 and spend 
 lOrd would 
 been the 
 frciu n^od 
 ,nd instruc- 
 
 I 
 
 lion, and as this passed through my mind, I asked 
 the old man who told him of the Doctor's return from 
 the Continent. 
 
 " Ane 'at can be lippened till better than maist for 
 news frae that quarter," replied he, "jist his ain 
 servin' lass, or I should rather say ane o' his lasses ; 
 her mither bides nae far frae oor house and oor gude- 
 wife was up there yestreen an heard the news. 
 They're a' come hame, the Doctor an his iady an the 
 family, an he's gaun to preach in Free St. John's the 
 day, gin he be spared an weel, an with the Lord's 
 help I'll gang an hear him." 
 
 While Saunders continued speaking, I sat down on 
 a style that crossed a dry stone dyke at the edge of 
 the wood, we having wandered a little way from the 
 burnside. I did not answer him, being wholly occu- 
 pied with the busy thoughts conjured up by the 
 news I had heard. 
 
 The old man construing my silence, or my seating 
 ../self into a determination to remain in the woods, 
 £«id, kindly laying his hand on my shoulder as he 
 .;poke, 
 
 " v>ang ye awa up to Embro' lady, an hear the 
 Doctor, an ye'U mind better what he says when j^e'er 
 far awa, than what ye think the trees or the birds 
 either say, though nae doubt baith the tain and the 
 tither praise Him 'at made them, their ain gett, but 
 we canna tell what they say in their sangs or psalms, 
 an when the day o' trial or adversity comes, as it 
 v.^mes to a', the words o' a godly minister like the 
 
^w 
 
 
 38 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 (| ) 
 
 r 
 
 Doctor 'ill come back again maybe wi' mair force Jian 
 they had when we sat aneath the blessing Marion 
 tel't me yestreen 'at ye're gaun far awa to dae the 
 erran 'at the Lord saw fit to hinder her Ladyship frae 
 daein hersel ; maybe the Doctor 'ill have a word tae 
 say in prayer or psalm at'll lat you ken whar to gang 
 and what to dae when ye gang, an whether or no, 
 ye'er better in Grod's house than in the fule's fauld 
 'at Sataii vad like to hae ye in, wanderin about in 
 the wooii, e blessed Sabbath." 
 
 As the olti ix^an ceased speaking, the conviction 
 forced itself on me that I was indeed, as he said, 
 wandering in the fool's fold, and doing Satan's bid- 
 ding, by neglecting the sanctuary on the " Sabbath of 
 the Lord, honourable," and that I might soon be 
 where I could hear no sound of Sabbath bells, or 
 what I most earnestly desired, I might hear some- 
 thing that would be like a permission or even a 
 command to break my illstarred vow and starting 
 up from my seat, I said, taking the old man's hand in 
 mine, 
 
 " I will go up to Edinburgh, and hear w^hat God the 
 Lord will say to me." 
 
 '* To His folk. He'll speak peace, and to His Saints, 
 but let them not return to foolishness," was his reply, 
 as he kindly pressed my hand, in parting 
 
 I went on my way, certainly not rejoicing, as I had 
 ever hitherto done, walking on the same road and on 
 the same erraiid, namely, to hear the Doctor preach. 
 My thoughts were concentrated on the weary wan- 
 
 <i 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 ad 
 
 Bering life to which I had doomed myself by a promise 
 made on the impulse of the moment, and asked of me 
 in her dying moments, by one whom I had more 
 reason to love and respect than any other woman I 
 had ever kno wn, and I wearied myself to find some 
 valid reason by which I could conscientiously escape 
 the fulfilment of my vow. 
 
 The day previous, I spoke to Marion on the subject, 
 but the only answer I could obtain was, " If you can 
 reconcile it to your own conscience to break the 
 fiolemn vow you made before the Lord, to the dead, 
 do so." 1 had all respect for Marion, for herself and 
 her opinion in most matters ; in the present instance, 
 1 considered her actuated by a narrow-minded view^ 
 of the case, w^hich she probably w^ould not have enter- 
 tained had her mind been more enlarged by education, 
 — besides, she had evidently viewed the subject from 
 lier own standpoint, never taking into consideration 
 the difference it would make to the poor child w^ho 
 had no one else in the wide world to love or care for 
 <ixcept myself. Verily, I could have spoken, and felt 
 ^s she did, were my soul in her soul's stead. 
 
 On the same day, I spoke on the same subject to 
 Mr. Morton, and I told him all I would forfeit for 
 myself and the nearest relative I had in the world, 
 by going on this apparently hopeless journey, and 
 t)ne to which I could see no end. The promise I had 
 made involved my non-return to my native land, 
 until I had found Mrs. Percy alive, and could bring 
 hor home, or foimd her grave and had it opened. 
 
w 
 
 m>-M 
 
 40 
 
 THE GEAND GORDONS. 
 
 t:' 
 
 I -[•■! 
 
 
 ill 
 
 \\ i 
 
 m 
 
 % 
 
 :.!!il 
 
 The marks by which it could be recognized as her 
 grave, and her body, were two rings on the third 
 finger of her left hand, placed there on her fourteenth 
 birthday, and which she would never allow to be 
 taken off, until at last it was impossible to do so. 
 
 Captain Percy had assured Mr. Morton, these had 
 been buried with her body, as amputation of the 
 finger would have been necessary in order to remove 
 them, and until I found the living woman, or the 
 ringed dead hand, I was vowed to exile, and what 
 end WL ; such a sacrifice to serve ? 
 
 Mr. Morton heard me patiently, and then said, 
 
 " As to liie end your journey may serve, that is 
 nothing to the purpose, but I by no means look upon 
 it as hopeless, I have corresponded with Captain 
 Percy on the subject, and he has given me as nearly 
 as he can do, a chart of the place his wife was buried 
 in ; if it is possible to do so, it is most desirable that 
 her body should be brought home, and he has given 
 me his permission in writing, to have that done 
 should we succeed in finding the grave. "Were my 
 means such as would enable me to provide for my 
 mother and sisters in my absence, I would myself go 
 on this errand, and in the course of a year or two^ 
 should you not succeed before then, I will, most pro- 
 bably, try what I can do : there is nothing in life 
 could give me the same satisfaction as having Mrs. 
 Percy's remains brought home to rest in her mother's 
 grave. I could not advise you to release yourself 
 from a promise made to the dead." 
 
 £ 
 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 41 
 
 I remembered how he gazed at, and. what he said 
 to the picture in the blae dress, more than a year ago- 
 
 I would ask no more advice, miserable counsellors 
 were they all. I was now on my way to hear the 
 word of Him who erreth not, and I prayed so 
 earnestly as I walked on my way, that He Himself 
 would release me from my vow. I think it is Mrs. 
 Hannah More who says : " Prayer draws all the 
 Christian graces into its focus ; — it draws repentance, 
 with her holy sorrows, her pious resolutions, her self 
 distrust, it attracts faith with her elevated eye — 
 humility looking inward ; prayer by quickening these 
 graces in the heart warms them into life, fits them 
 foi His service; earnest prayer is mental virtue, 
 spiritual action." 
 
 As I prayed I felt myself stronger, more willing to 
 do the work I so dreaded ; the burden 1 implored my 
 Father to take from my head seemed lighter as I 
 prayed : " He hath mercy ever." Before I reached 
 the church door, I w^as able to say to Him who knew 
 my inmost thoughts : " Lord, enable me to do Thy 
 will with a willing mind and cheerful heart." 
 
 I had loitered long on my way ; for the first time 
 in three years, the pr^^acher's voice fell on my ear as 
 I entered the church ; a respectably dressed, grey- 
 haired man who had often given me a seat before^ 
 and whom I liked to fancy one of the elders, opened 
 the door of his pew for me to enter. I looked at the 
 speaker; yes, it was the Doctor, the man I most 
 reverenced on earth, whom I had gone ten miles to 
 
w 
 
 a' ' i 
 
 il ! 
 
 i i ■ 
 
 •si 
 
 S ■ t 
 
 ; 
 
 42 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 hear preach 'many a sunny Sabbath morning, before 
 1 ever saw Leith or Edinburgh ; one who knew my 
 heart so well by the power from on High, and yet 
 had never heard my name, nor seen my face. I came 
 in as quietly as possible, but the service had begun 
 fully a quarter of an hour before, and perhaps the 
 movement made by the man who took me into his 
 pew, attracted the minister's attention in that crowded, 
 silent church ; he turned his head towards where I 
 «at, and looking me full in the face, read, or I should 
 rather say, spoke these words : 
 
 " Turn not from it to the rii^ht hand nor to the left, 
 that thou mayest prosper whithersoever thou goest." 
 
 " This book of the law shall not depart out of thy 
 mouth ; but thou shalt meditate therein day and night 
 ihat thou mayest observe to do according to all that 
 is written therein, for then thou shalt have good 
 
 success. 
 
 " Have not I commanded thee ? Be strong and of 
 a good courage ; be not afraid, neither be thou dis- 
 mayed, for the Lord thy Grod is with thee whither- 
 soever thou goest." 
 
 I was answered, and in all humility and faith I 
 bowed my head and received into my heart, the 
 message which the man of God had given me from 
 the Lord, and I lifted up my soul to my Heavenly 
 Father, and in the words of Israel to his servant 
 Joshua, I also said : " Whithersoever Thou sendest me 
 I will go." 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS, 
 
 48 
 
 ing, before 
 ) knew my 
 ^h, and yet 
 ;e. I came 
 had begun 
 erhaps the 
 me into his 
 it crowded, 
 ds where I 
 or I should 
 
 • to the left, 
 hou goest." 
 
 t out of thy 
 
 y and night 
 
 to all that 
 
 have good 
 
 rong and of 
 •e thou dis- 
 ee whither- 
 
 and faith I 
 heart, the 
 m me from 
 y Heavenly 
 lis servant 
 sendest me 
 
 In that hour, He answered my prayer fully, and 
 took my burden from oft' my head. 
 
 The Lord is a rich provider. He not only took my 
 burden, but in its place, He gave me light and faith, 
 and joy unspeakable. 
 
 Almost the first words of the sermon were " That 
 course of action which needs an excuse is never a 
 safe one for a Christian." 
 
 I laid that sentence by among my pressed roses ; it 
 saved me from many a false step in all my after life. 
 
 As I took my Way homewards after the second 
 sermon, I lingered on the road that Saunders Mitchell 
 might overtake me and bear me company on my Avay 
 home. Saunders had many acquaintances in Edin- 
 burgh, and they all seemed to find a focus at St. Johns, 
 ^o when I waited to have him for my companion home, 
 which I often did, T had to exercise patience. I had 
 not to wait so long as usual, that Sunday, the old man 
 was putting his mettle «to the proof, and on overtaking 
 me, said, almost breathless from his exertions : 
 
 " I've been maist runnin' to win up wi' ye, and 
 passed folk wi' a word, that was expectin' a shake o' 
 my han'; ye've surely bein' gaun faster than ye'er 
 ordinar ?" 
 
 " No, on the contrary, I was walking slow on purpose 
 to see you. What do you think of the doctrine the 
 Doctor gave us to-day, do you really believe that the 
 Lord is working miracles iji answer to prayer now, 
 as he did in the old time ? We never hear of such 
 things now ?" 
 

 I 
 
 44 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 di 
 
 
 ' !l 
 
 1 1 : vi 
 
 1 ■ ■' 
 
 I ' ;i 
 
 ■ i' 
 
 " That's ower true ; we dinna hear o' sic things noo, 
 but that disna mak oiiy dift'erence ; there's folk that 
 prays to the Lord wi' a' their heart, and yet never 
 watches for the answer that He aye sends ; nao that He 
 answers our prayers in the manner that we think, or 
 expect He will, but He aye answers. God has His 
 mysteries o' grace, but they're ower deep for human 
 ken, and just as He fed Elijah lang ago, sae does He 
 feed mony a puir hungry man and woman in our ain 
 day ; every ane in broad Scotland has heard how He 
 sent a red fox to feed Jennet Morrison for ten days. 
 That wasna done in secret ; I mind the time weel, I 
 think it was in twenty-nine, the year o' the great 
 floods; but at ony rate, every newspaper in the 
 country, south and north, spoke about it." 
 
 " I have heard of that, and also read an account of 
 it more than once, it was certainly a wonderful an- 
 swer to prayer," replied I, " and to a certain extent, 
 upholds the Doctor's doctrine of to-day; but such 
 miraculous things as ravens, or a fox either, being sent 
 to feed human beings, do not occur more than once 
 in many hundred years, probably not so often ; these 
 deliverances are the exception, not the rule, as the 
 Doctor would have us believe to-day." 
 
 " He was right though, they are the rule and nae 
 the exception," was the old man's reply, uttered in a 
 determined voice, " but the folk o' this generation 
 are ower wise to believe the hail gospel o' the Lord. 
 He is saying early and late, " They that call upon me 
 I will hear them " — ' He that feedeth the ravens' — 
 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 45 
 
 ivens — 
 
 * Considor the lilies,' — but our folk wonna * consider 
 the lilies,' — they ken better themselves, they'ie just 
 content to believe that He did answer prayer long ago 
 in Egypt and in the Wilderness, and auld Jerusalem, 
 but that He canna be troubled wi' answering prayers 
 noo ; forgetting His ain word that sae sure as ' His ear 
 is not so heavy,' neither is His arm shortened ; and they 
 just pray on, and never watch for an answer, and whan 
 godly men like the Doctor to whom the Lord sends 
 His Spirit, that they may search all things, even ' the 
 deep things of God,' tells them that He is noo as ever 
 the Hearci and the Answerer of prayer ; they think its 
 a parable. G-lpry be to His name, mony a precious 
 answer hae I had to my prayers, puir sinfu' man 
 that I am." 
 
 •' We were ance vera ill aff", lang after we left the 
 farm, a' thing gaed against us ; at last 1 fell poorly 
 mysel', and for a hale simmer we had naething but 
 Marion's penny fee, for Sandy, puir lad, he was then 
 as he is noo, and that was the heaviest cross of all, but 
 the Lord help'd me to lilt it up, and He has strength- 
 ened me to bear it every day for aught lang years, 
 and the puir lad nae five-and-twenty year auld yet." 
 
 (Sandy whom he alluded to, was a poor lost lad 
 drinking every penny he could win.) 
 
 "Well, as I was sayin', we had been for the ijiV'st 
 o' the simmer livin' on Marion's hanins, and what the 
 gudewife got for weavin' stockings to the gentry, till 
 at length, wlian I was on my feet again, Elsie fell 
 sick and for three weeks covildna risefrae her bed, or 
 
[FT 
 
 mm 
 
 It 
 
 i> 
 
 : ii 
 
 
 ,1! i 
 
 '\^A 
 
 t :, 
 
 I., ' 
 
 * 
 
 i , 
 
 ; lli. I 
 
 46 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 pit on her ain clean mutch, wi' the rheumatism, and 
 nae a stroke o' work to be got back nor fore. Ao 
 Friday night at supper time, T gave her a cup o' tea 
 that was like clear water, for it was masked on Sabbath 
 afternoon, and I aye hained it for her, and put a lif*^'*- 
 drap o* water tilt (I wadna hae tasted it mysel' nae n 
 than gin it was goud), and wi' it she got the bit dry 
 bread we were weel acquaint wi' then, and the warst 
 o't was, that it was the last in the house, and nae meal» 
 nae ae handfu', to mak mair wi'. Weel, whan I took 
 the buke that nicht, I was frightened to pit up a 
 petition for temporal mercies, for fear she wad dread 
 that there was naething in the house ; sae I did as I 
 was wont, and as I kent his mither never thought 
 the time lang eneuch for, I wrestled wi' the Lord 
 lang for Sandy, puir lad, but that's a petition I ha "^ 
 laid before Him in secret and in the Assembly o' 
 folk, for mony a lang day, and I am waitin' yet for the 
 answer. I hae whiles been lifted up to think that 
 Satan in presenting himsel' before the Lord, as he 
 doubtless does yet amang the sons o' God, has 
 brought me also for a reproach, as he did lang ago to 
 Job; and I hae faith eneuch to believe that the Lord 
 'ill pluck Sandy out o' Satan's hands yet, whether I 
 live to see it or no. But I'm gaun back in my story. 
 " I gaed to my bed, but I couldna sleep, sae whan 
 the sun began to glint in through the lozens o' the- 
 window, I slippit out frae the claes as quietly as I 
 could for fear o' waukenin' Elsie : nae that I had ony- 
 thing to dae, or ony hopes o' wark, but jist that T was 
 ower fu' o' care to lie, thinkin' hoo I was to tell her that 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 47 
 
 there was nao meal the day for ony o' us. Weel, 1! 
 had hardly pitten on my claes, and was liftin' my 
 sheen to tak them ben the house, for fear I would 
 mak ower mucklo din gin I pit them on at the bed 
 side ; Elsie opened her een and leu kit at me, and 
 smiled sae pleased and quiet like, jist as she used to 
 dae mony a day forty years afore, whan I would tak 
 her pails fu' o' water an carry them till her father's 
 door. I was a stoot lad then, and whan I speart her 
 frae her father, I brought her hame to a weel plen- 
 ished house, and a' fu' byre and barn yard ; and gin it 
 had been ten times mair, she was well worthy o' it a' ; 
 she was the bonniest lass in a' the country side, and 
 she ne'er gae me a back answer, or a sair heart in my 
 I)rosperity, and she ne'er said that iier gown or her 
 mutch was auld in our poverty ; — weel, she lookit up 
 in my face and said, 
 
 " I'm like King David whan the host o' the Philis- 
 tines was garrisoned in Bethlehem, whan he longed 
 and said, ' Oh ! that one would give me to drink of the 
 water of the well of Bethlehem, that is by the gate.' " 
 
 " An what is it ye lang for, Elsie ?" I speart wi' a 
 frightened heart." 
 
 " "Weel gudeman, for what I canna get, but its only 
 a notion, and it'll pass away — -jist for a drink frae oor 
 ain red well, down at the firwood at Beldorne." 
 
 " My heart gaud a loup for gladness whan I heard 
 what she wanted, and I said : ' ye'U get that gudewife, 
 afore aught o'clock." 
 
w 
 
 w 
 
 ! i 
 
 ■:i! 
 
 48 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 lit 
 
 " na gudeman," says she, " its o'er far for ye to 
 
 gang. 
 
 *' Its nae tliat, Elsie, I have gaen ten miles mony a 
 day through the frost and snaw, and worn mony a 
 pair o' sheen after six o'clock at night, only gaun to 
 see ye ; and I surely can gang three mile to please ye 
 on a bonny harv'st mornin'. Turn ye ye'er face to 
 the wa', and sleep again, and I'll be back at aught 
 o'clock, wi' ye'er drink to ye." 
 
 " She pit her han' up to my face, as she said, " weel 
 gudeman, ye've aye taen ye'er ain gett a ye'er life, 
 sae gin ye'er o'er tired whan ye come hame, ye hae 
 naebody to blame but yoursel'." 
 
 " I happit her wi' the claes, and she promised to 
 sleep till I cam back again, sae wi' a pail in aye han'^ 
 and my staff in the ither, I took the road I wasna 
 lang gaun to the red well ; mony a sweet Sabbath 
 mornin' I sat there and read the Lord's buke whan 
 naebody but mysel' and the birds were stirrin'; and 
 mony a simmer's nicht whan the wark was deen, 
 Elsie and the bairns followed me there to drink the 
 red water, and pu' the white gowans and the purple 
 clover, wi' the settin' sun glistenin' out and in on them 
 through the leaves of the brown birch that grew o'er 
 the well." 
 
 " It did not appear vera lang sine, and yet the bairns 
 that whiles made o'er muckle noise then, were a' but 
 twa sleepin' sound and quiet i' the green kirk yard, 
 wi' the white gowans growin' aboon their heads; 
 and the proud, happy mither that was gude to a' body, 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 4D 
 
 and ne'er denied the wanderer quarters, nor stintc^d 
 him wi' plenty o' meat, und drink, was noo lyin in a 
 -cot-house, wi' only a hut and a ben, and nae a bit to pit 
 in her mou'; my heart was burstin', and pittin' my 
 bonnet on the top o' the well, I knelt down to plead 
 my cause wi' the Lord, and what 1 couldna pray for 
 in the house, I prayed for noo, even that the Lord wad 
 send bread for Elsie, and wark for mysel', and I had 
 mair liberty in the Lord's presence, and mair enlarge- 
 ment of soul afore Him on that early harv'st mornin' 
 wi' the dew on the grass aneath my feet, and the lark 
 singin' aboon my head, than I ever had afore or sin 
 sine. And noo for my answer ; when I rose frae my 
 knees, there was a crown piece amang the grass at my 
 feet ! I lifted it up and turned it over and over for fear 
 I was mistaen ; — na, there was King George the 
 third's head on the aye side, and the quarterins on the 
 ither ; and I said unto the Lord, the ministerin' rugels, 
 and birds, and bees, and trees alane hearin' me, ■ I will 
 sing unto the Lord as long as I live ; I will sing 
 praise to my God while I have :ny being. He is the 
 Lord our God ; He hath remembered His covenant 
 for ever.' I lifted my pail and put on my bonnet, and 
 then turned to go on my way hame to buy food for 
 llie wife of my youth, and as I did so, the words came 
 clear on my soul, ' they were tempted,' — so they 
 were, and so might I be at that moment." 
 
 " Satan is not dead, no, nor sleeping, this may be a 
 trial of the most cruel kind, but ' the Lord whom I 
 «erve, can deliver me from the burning lierv furnace ;' 
 
 D 
 

 11 ■ ' 
 
 I III 
 
 'ii I 
 
 li.!! 
 
 'i 
 i' .Jl 
 
 I 
 
 Ml- 
 
 ! I , ■• i 
 
 I'l 
 
 i .;! 
 
 50 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS 
 
 — it is not my sin to be tempted, but it is my sin if I 
 yield to the temptation, — the Lord has promised 
 strength and grace to overcome every trial. Satan 
 goeth about — he is as able to work a lying wonder 
 now as he was in Egypt of old ; — maybe this was a 
 sore temptation — but if it was, there was to set against 
 it the Lord's word, ' Blessed is the man that endure tli 
 temptation, for when he is tried, he shall receive the^ 
 crown of life which the Lord hath promis* .o them 
 that love Him.'" 
 
 " I laid my pail on the well, and takin' my staff in 
 my han', I gaed up to the house that had been my ain 
 for mony a lang year ; it was about a quarter o' a 
 mile up the brae ; but it was likely the crown belanged 
 to some o' James Duncan's folk that bide there noo^ 
 and I wad bring it to them afore I gaed hame. 
 
 "Whan I reached the house, Mrs. Duncan hersel' was 
 in the door, and held out her han', rale glad to see me, 
 as she said, * Hoo are ye the day, gudeman ? It was 
 surely Providence that sent ye here sae early i' the 
 mornin' " 
 
 " Maybe it was, Mrs. Duncan," says I, holdin' up 
 the crown, " Did ony o' your folk lose that ?" 
 
 " Na ; nane o' oor folk lost it ; I haena seen a crown 
 piece for mony a day." 
 
 " Maybe some o' your harv'st ban's tint it ?" 
 
 " Na, gudeman, we hav'na ony harv'st haii's about 
 
 th^ house, my gudeman bus been doon wi' the fever, 
 
 and all the three bairns, for aught days back, and the 
 
 corn standin' ready to cut, an naebody to cut it, or Lo 
 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 61 
 
 see it deenj are ye feard to come in an speak to 
 James ?" 
 
 *'Na, I am nae aye bit feard," says I, and sae I gaed in 
 an spake to the gudeman, and the upshot o't was, that 
 he offered me mair siller than I wad tak to engage 
 folk to cut his corn, and o'ersee the wark mysel' ; and 
 he did mair, he sent a horse and cart for a hale month 
 for me ilka mornin' and sent me hame at nicht. I 
 promised till engage folk to cut the crop, and fess them 
 out the next day ; and I did it, and guided his farm for 
 a hale month, till he was weel and could do his ain 
 wark." 
 
 "I let him see the crown, and he said at ance, *it 
 disna belang to ony o' our folk, but there's vera often 
 folk comes out frae Embro to hae a picnic at the red 
 well ; its likely been some o' them that's lost it ; but 
 I dinna think that there has been ony body out there 
 this lang while ; and I dinna ken them whan they 
 come, sae I couldna say wha it belangs till." 
 
 " The end o' the story is, that I bought plenty for 
 a gude breakfast to my wife afore I gaed hame, and I 
 nev^er found an owner for the crown, but ere three 
 months was ower, I found one that was as sair needin' 
 it as I was the day that I got it; and I gave it to him, 
 and bade him give it to anither whan he could part wi' 
 it himsel', and sae he did. Ere that month was out, I got 
 the charge o' the house and garden I bide in noo, frae 
 Mr. Carneigie ; he was born i' the house, and he pays 
 me weel for the keepin' it in order ; I hae been in't 
 for ten years, and am weel sure I'll never be pitten out 
 
f^p 
 
 t . J 
 
 118 
 
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 I 
 
 I 
 
 
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 62 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 o't; — and gin I was the morn, the Lord is as able to 
 help me noo, as He was yon mornin', whan 1 gaed out 
 wi' sic a heavy heart, and nae ae bawbee i' the 
 house, ten years sine." 
 
 I did not reach Leith until late in the evening; 
 Marion was passing through the Hall as I entered, 
 and, coming towards me, said with a pleased air : 
 
 *' Oh ! I am so glad you have come home ; I was 
 afraid we would never see you again." 
 
 "While she was speaking, Mr Morton came from 
 the library, and shaking hands warmly with me, said 
 " We, Marion and I, were afraid some evil had hap- 
 X^ened to you. What kept you away so long ? W^e 
 knew you had no acquaintance to visit in Leith." 
 
 I replied that finding a favourite preacher had come 
 home, and was to preach, I went up to Edinburgh 
 to hear him ; adding, " perhaps it may be the last time 
 for many years, as I have made up my mind to go to 
 India by the first steamer in which I can obtain a 
 berth, after Lady Gordon's interment." 
 
 I well knew that the evil they both feared for me, 
 was that I had left Leith in order to avoid the fulfil- 
 ment of the promise they knew I had repented so 
 bitterly ; — putting such a construction on their words 
 was not very flattering to my self esteem, but T felt 
 assured it was so, and since the morning, I had 
 regained my own self respect, and therefore could 
 bear that others should give me credit for less than 
 I deserved, and thence it was more to relieve their 
 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 53 
 
 minds than for aught else, I mentioned my determin- 
 ation to go on my errand so soon. 
 
 Before retiring to bed, I went down to Lady 
 Gordon's room, that I might look once more on the 
 face that even now was so dear to me, and in enter- 
 ing, took ray way through the parlour and little 
 cabinet room I have already referred to. 
 
 It was very late, almost twelve o'clock, and as I 
 passed through both rooms, I observed that the ladies 
 and gentlemen who were to sit up with her Lady- 
 ship's body, seemed all wearied out, several of them 
 asleep — no wonder, they probably had had only 9 
 few hours rest since her death. 
 
 There was no one in the room with the dead; 
 this was what I wished, but could have scarcely 
 hoped for, the funeral was to take place on the mor- 
 row, and at early morn, the body would be placed 
 in the coffin, in the sight of all her relatives ; this 
 then was the last time 1 could look on her face, and 
 I had earnestly wished to do so alone. She had no 
 shroud, merely a simple night dress ; the soft lace 
 border of her cap lying on her cheek, — her face 
 white, as it always was, but with no rigid lines ; all 
 so unlike death, so like life that as I stood looking 
 down upon the body, I felt my heart beat as if some 
 great mistake had been made ; — I reverently put my 
 hand on her arm, " Yes, it is death ! " 
 
 How eloquently those folded hands — that dead face 
 spoke. — There is not a minister in the land, whatever 
 his knowledge of, and power over the human heart, 
 
\Wl 
 
 r 
 
 '4i\ 
 
 54 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 who, in all his life long, ever preached a sermon half 
 80 solemn, half so impressive as the one preached by 
 that silent tongue and dead fiice in the quiet mid- 
 night. 
 
 ■.''-if 
 

 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ** Wlio hath begotten the drops of dew ? 
 Who the good that in all things lies, 
 Who the prijiial beauty that grew 
 Into myriad forms in Paradise ? " — y^Au Reade. 
 
 UCH a lovely morning; earth and air full of 
 light and life, as it was that other morning, 
 thousands of years ago, " when the morning , 
 .•stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted 
 for joy ;" each little dew drop as it hung on blade of 
 i^rass or w'aving corn, suggesting the question asked 
 4?o long ago in the land of ITz, " Who hath begotten 
 the drops of dew ?" — w^ho indeed ? — who can tell the 
 tale of their birth ? Such w^ere the thoughts that 
 arose in my mind — the words that came to my lips, 
 as w'alking along in the early morn, the pleasant 
 grassy road that leads up to Edinburgh. 
 
 My footsteps fell on the innocent looking daisy as 
 with red lips parted, she bared her golden bosom to 
 the sun, — while the white clover and yellow butter- 
 cup sparkled with the starry dews of Heaven, rejoic- 
 ing in their gladness — the beautiful silent creatures, 
 I could not help but ahare in their joy, and unite ia 
 
Vfw^ 
 
 T 
 
 
 I' 
 
 56 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 praising Him who hath given ns this green earth ht 
 its beauty and gladness, on which, but for sin, iv 
 were happiness enough to live. 
 
 Early in the morning a letter was placed in ray 
 hands, from Miss Pierce, with whom Ella was boarded., 
 informing mc that she, accompanied by my sister, 
 would be at Kay's Hotel, in Edinburgh, for an hour 
 that day ; they were on their way to spend the vaca- 
 tion with friends of Miss Pierce' residing in Melrose. 
 In order that I might be certain of seeing my sister^ 
 it was necessary I should go at once to Edinburgh 
 and wait their arrival at Kay's. 
 
 I almost felt relieved when I found I was not to- 
 be in the house while that grand funeral cortege 
 would take place, and took my way to Edi7i>>nrgh 
 with a lighter heart, than I had known since death 
 entered the house I called my home, although J 
 knew I went to inflict a terrible disappointment on 
 the one I loved the best, — But she was young, and 
 we had not seen each other for three vears, the wound 
 in her heart would not be so deep as in my own : 
 and my own wo\ild be sustained by the knowledge 
 that I was doing the bidding of the Lord ; He who^ 
 could lead me as the blind in a path I knew not. 
 could make the crooked places straight, and the 
 rough places even before me; this was His owiv. 
 promise, I had only to plead that promise, and 
 within the last day and night, to me — even to me. alt. 
 xinworthy as I was. He had given faith to do so. 
 
 On arriving at Kay** Hotel, I seated myself in the^ 
 
 I 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 5T 
 
 recess of a window overlooking the street : I had 
 brought a book with me and between reading and an 
 occasional gaze at the passers by, not one of whom I 
 know, a couple of hours sped pleasantly enough 
 away 
 
 A lady entered the room whom, at first I scarcely 
 noticed ; she was like myself in walking costume, and 
 [ concluded from her seating herself in one of the win« 
 dows, she had come on a similar errand ; by and bye 
 she came towards the window I occupied and placing 
 a chair for herself, made some common-place obser- 
 vations regarding the weather, the passers by, etcetera. 
 
 She was a comely, pleasant looking young woman, 
 well dressed and evidently in great good humour 
 with herself and the world at large, making piquant 
 remarks on the passers by with a sweet toned English 
 voice and in a kindly manner, which shewed that her 
 bark of life for the present was launched on a smooth 
 and bright sea ; — when we are happy and prosperous^ 
 ourselves, provided our dispositions are at all amiable, 
 we are inclined to view all around in couleur de rose. 
 
 After chatting pleasantly for some time, she got up,, 
 walked up and down the room once or twice, and 
 finally untying her pretty pink bonnet, took it ofl',^ 
 looked at it admiringly, replacing it in a more becoming 
 manner by the aid of a pier glass which was placed 
 between the windows ; this being done to her satis- 
 faction, she again seated herself as before in the recess. 
 I partly occupied. 
 
 " I am so tired of waiting idle here," said she, " I 
 
I 
 
 II ^M< 
 
 •mui 
 
 K' f 
 
 ||»i 
 
 iJ 
 
 III! 
 
 m-^ 
 
 m 
 
 ■58 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 never was in Edinburgh before and I would so much 
 like to go round and seo tho place, particularly the 
 jewellers' shops, I have seen such beautiful jewellery 
 that w^as bought hero ; my watch and chain were 
 bought from a man of the name of Kirkwood here, 
 his name is inside." 
 
 As she spoke, she shewed me her watch, a beautiful 
 •one indeed, set round with a triple row of large pearls 
 on the back, inclosing a monogram of three letters 
 formed of diamonds, but like all other monograms it 
 Tecjuired a itey to the letters before they could be 
 -deciphered. 
 
 " You cannot find it out," said she, with a smile, 
 seeing by my turning the watch round that I was 
 making a vain endeavour to iind out the initials, 
 " many have tried to do so, but all have failed ; how 
 do you like the chain ? " 
 
 The chain was like the watch, rarely beautiful, and 
 with a woman's admiration for such things, I 
 expressed to her my appreciation of both, adding ; 
 **■ I suppose this was a wedding gift." 
 
 "Not exactly," replied she, replacing her watch 
 outside her dress, as she had before worn it, " but it 
 was given me by my husband a short time after our 
 marriage ; he also gave me these ear-rings and brooch." 
 
 I looked at the ornaments, as she mentioned them ; 
 they were of filagree work, without jewels, but of 
 ohaste and beautiful workmanship, and as well as 
 the watch bespoke a well tilled purse, and refined 
 iaste in the purchaser. 
 
 i: 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 69 
 
 " You are fortunate in having a rich as well as 
 u generous husband, were these things chosen by 
 
 yourself?" • 
 
 " Oh no, thoy were bought long " she checked 
 
 herself, paused a moment, and then added hastily : 
 " they were bought here ; I never was in Edinburgh 
 before." She seemed embarrassed, stood up, and 
 looking out so that she could see a long way down 
 the street, exclaimed impatiently, " how tiresome to 
 have to stay here all day like a prisoner ; I wish 
 Captain Percy would come back." (The name 
 struck me, although I knew Mr. Morton believed 
 the Captain Percy I was interested in to be in India, 
 and w e had not heard of his being married a second 
 time). My curiosity was excited, but carefully school- 
 ing my face, lest the interest I felt should appear, I 
 smilingly said : " You are wearying for your young 
 husband ?" 
 
 Her face changed at once, as she replied with a 
 bright look : " AVell, I do like to have him always 
 with me, it is natural you know ; but he is such 
 good company, every body likes him, he keeps one 
 laughing all the time." 
 
 This description tallied well with the account 
 Marion had often given me of Captain Percy's habit 
 of turning everything into ridicule, a part of his 
 character, which, from the first, prejudiced Lady 
 Gordon against him, although it amused and attracted 
 her young unsophisticated daughter. 
 
 She looked at my face, it probably wearing a grave 
 
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 ki 
 
 ml 
 
 W' 
 
 CO 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 expression suitable to the thoughts that occupied my 
 mind, and asked lau^^hingly, if I was married. 
 
 " No," replied I, " nor had I ever a chtinee to bo." 
 
 " I thought so," washer answer, given with a good- 
 humoured smile, " somehow you always know an 
 old maid. I was sure you were an old maid, when- 
 ever I saw you, not that you look very old either ;"^ 
 adding quickly, as if she feared having given offence,. 
 " you may be married yet." 
 
 " I do not know, I fear not," said I, looking admir- 
 ingly upon her pretty face. " I am neither young 
 nor pretty like you, and, at all events. I could not 
 expect to marry an officer, which you have done ; i& 
 your husband a young man ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, young enough," replied she, " but I am 
 not his first wife : it was to attend the funeral of his 
 first wife's mother that brought us here ; she lived in 
 Leith, and the funeral is to-day. I'm sure I wish it 
 was over." 
 
 " Was your husband married to Lady Gordon's 
 daughter ?"inquired I ; " her interment takes place to- 
 day, and I have heard her daughter was married to 
 an officer ; but I thought his regiment was in Madras,, 
 or some part of India?" 
 
 " Yes," said she, " it was Lady Q-ordon's daughter 
 who was Captain Percy's first wife. Did you kuov 
 Lady Gordon ?" 
 
 "I did, but of course her Ladyship v^ lOove my 
 rank in life, besides she was a proud, distan wo »an ; 
 
THE GRAND OORDONS. 
 
 61 
 
 she was considered peculiar by man} people." This 
 I said to draw her out. 
 
 •' She ouj^ht to have been peculiar enough if she 
 was like Mrs. Percy," was her reply, " a proud up- 
 setting thing that you could never make content ; she 
 was never done fretting herself, so she could'nt bear 
 to see another with a pleased face, and as jealous as 
 Lucifer. The Captain used to say she would be 
 jealous of a she mouse." 
 
 '• You knew his wife, then ?" 
 
 •• I think I did know her well enough, did you ?'' 
 
 " No," replied I, she was married and in India 
 before I ever saw her mother ; my home was in the 
 Highlands, and I never either saw or heard of Lady 
 Gordon or her family, until about three years ago, 
 when 1 came to Leith." 
 
 '• Did you live with them ?" she enquired w4th a 
 searching glance. 
 
 " Yes, indeed I did." 
 
 "Oh then," said she, as if I could fully understand 
 her — " you know all the outs and ins of them, and if 
 the old cat was like the young one, you had a sweet 
 time of it as well as me ; but I made less of it serve 
 me. I went to her about six months before they left 
 India, and when we went to New- York, the Captain 
 lold me he would not let me go to Canada with them, 
 for he knew she would kill me with her ill temper. She 
 was fit enough to do that ; I may say I never had a 
 pleasant look from her after the first three months I 
 
i!f!T 
 
 ?▼ 
 
 62 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 i! 
 
 il •: 
 
 ! ■ 
 
 was in the house ; I'm sure it- was a good thing she 
 died, for she worried the Captain's life out of him, as 
 well as every other body's." 
 
 " So you were not with them when she died ?" 
 
 " Oh no, she died in Montreal, in Canada ; she had a 
 fever in India, and after that she pretended to have 
 pains all the time in her side, just for an excuse to be 
 crying all the time, just to torment other people ; at 
 any rate, the Captain said she was never fit to be his 
 wife ; he could'nt abide her cankering, puling ways 
 — he requires a thorough going woman for his wife^ 
 who'll let him take his swing ; but she would'nt let 
 him or any one else have any pleasure ; and you 
 know, I must confess he likes a game of billiards, as 
 all them officers do ; and sometimes he used to be out 
 the most of the night, and if he had ill luck, of course 
 he would now and then get pretty well cleaned out, 
 and of course he wanted her to write home to her 
 mother (who you know was as rich as a Jew), to send 
 out some money ; but no, she was as niggardly as 
 the mother, and if he had gone down on his knees, 
 she would never write for a pound ; so of course this 
 made mischief all the time." 
 
 "It is to be supposed it would," replied I, "but 
 how did you- come to marry him when you remained 
 in New York, and they went to Montreal ?" 
 
 " Oh, because after her death he came right back 
 to New York ; and we were married the very day 
 after he came back." 
 
 " That was a good thing for you." 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 6J 
 
 " Of course it was, but then I knew very well long- 
 before, that I would be married to him whenever 
 she died, the wonder was she lived so long, if you 
 had seen her after the fever, she was just like a 
 scarecrow, skin and bone, and always crying to get 
 home ; that was what made hiri take her away from 
 N ew York ; he caught her one day telling one of the 
 ladies who boarded in the same hotel, that she was 
 determined to go home and remain in Scotland, until 
 
 she got better." 
 
 " But she could as easily have gone home from 
 Montreal, in Canada, as from New York." 
 
 *' No, she could not, he brought her to board with 
 a French family there, who spoke no English, and a& 
 she did not speak French, it would not be easy for 
 her to plan that without his leave, and we knew 
 well enough she would have done that if they had 
 stayed in New York. But, at any rate, she died a 
 week or two after they went to Canada, and he cared 
 so little about her that he had'nt a black coat or a bit 
 of crape on his hat when he came back." 
 
 The window at which we sat was open, and as shi^ 
 finished speaking she put her head outside and looked 
 in the direction she expected to see her husband ; — 
 drawing herself back almost instantly, she exclaimed. 
 
 " Gracious ! here's the Captain back already ; for 
 goodness sake dont let on that I told you a wo"d 
 about Mrs. Percy, he hates me to speak to strangers 
 and if he thought I was telling you anything, he 
 would go mad." 
 
«ni Til iM ip> 
 
 III I 
 
 iii 
 
 e4 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 " Dont fear, I sha'nt speak to him at all," said I. 
 
 " "Well, that's best," replied she, in a low tone, as if 
 fearful of his hearing what she said ; " I'll go and sit 
 in one of the far windows, and don't you let on that 
 you know me at all ; don't speak to me for any sake." 
 
 " Have no fear, I shall neither speak to, nor notice 
 you." 
 
 She gave me a good humoured nod in reply, and 
 hurrying oft" to the furthei- end of the room, seated 
 herself in the window, with her back towards where 
 I sat. 
 
 She had completed her arrangements just in time 
 — not a moment too soon — when Captain Percy put 
 his head into, rather than entered the room. Seeing 
 her there, he came towards her; she advancing to 
 meet hira with a pleased air, expressing at the same 
 time, her surprise and pleasure at his quick return. 
 
 He came towards her with a smiling face, and 
 pressed her offered hand to his lips, with a courtly 
 air, looking altogether very dilferent from the sulky 
 looking rude fellow he appeared when I saw him 
 previously. 
 
 " I felt myself one too many there," said he, " those 
 who came for the funeral, and wiiom I knew, were 
 nearly as uncivil as the old witch herself used to bo; 
 so I thought I'd come and s'^e my love, have lunch, 
 and still return in time to hear the will, which is Uie 
 only thing I am at all concerned about." 
 
 " I am very glad you came at any rate," was her 
 reply, as they both walked towards the window, "I 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 65 
 
 Avas awful tired, it's horrid lonesome being here 
 ;alone, it's not like being in a hotel in New York, at 
 «ll." 
 
 He laughed heartily, as he replied, " No, neither 
 the place nor the people ; however, we'll be back 
 there soon that's one good thing, and another : — 
 Morrison, the lawyer, whom I went to see on my 
 way back, says that it is most likely a fabrication of 
 Morton's, the story of the Alms house ; he says that 
 -every one who had an opportunity of knowing, testi- 
 Jies to the fondness of the old w^oman for the children ; 
 that in fact they seemed to be the light of her eyes. 
 I saw them to day, the little girl is very pretty, very 
 like Tiny, and the boy a glorious fellow — as big with 
 his six years as I could have been when I had num- 
 bered ten." 
 
 "Whether it was the mention of his dead wife's 
 beauty in connection with the little girl, or his admi- 
 ration of the children that displeased her, perhaps 
 both, his lady's brow clouded ; observing which he 
 laughed gaily saying as he playfully patted her cheek : 
 
 " You must not be jealous, you have no need, the 
 
 little cubs would not speak to, nor look at me, and if 
 
 they did, do you think it likely that I would lug them 
 
 about the w^orld with me ? — not the least danger of 
 
 that; I have no craving to be called Papa, and far 
 
 less to be called on to pay children's bills. Apropos 
 
 of bills, Morrison says he is satisfied the old woman 
 
 cannot have left less than five hundred a year 
 
 <each for the children's education and board. I know 
 
 E 
 
iprf 
 
 rW 
 
 66 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS 
 
 an excellent school in England, where I can have 
 them boarded, educated and clothed for twenty-five- 
 pounds each, so I hope to make rather a good thing" 
 of Mistress Impudence Gordon, after all." 
 
 As he ceased speaking, his companion put her face- 
 close to his ear and whispered a few words, on which 
 they both got up and left the room. Captain Percy 
 staring at me, or I should rather say, at my crapa 
 bonnet and veil as he passed out. 
 
 I lifted up my soul in grateful adoration to my- 
 Heavenly Father for His mercy in bringing me here ; 
 how had the information obtained so strangely 
 changed my life of hopeless wandering in India^ 
 seeking for a grave which had never been made 
 there, into a comparatively easy task. In a city like 
 Montreal, inLabited entirely by French and English,, 
 governed by European laws, it would be a simple 
 affair to find the grave of one so recently interred. — 
 Verily the Lord is not slack concerning His promise, 
 I had no sooner taken His yoke upon me than jt was 
 made light in a seemingly miraculous manner, had 
 Ella not received an invitation to go with Miss Pierce 
 (the first she had in three years,) or had I been 
 directed to go to another Hotel, or even the hour 
 been stated at which they were to arrive, I could not 
 have heard what to me was of such life long impor- 
 tance — would I ever again doubt a Providence thai 
 careth when " a sparrow falleth to the ground ? " 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ** Lo His Spirit in our need doth shew the way." 
 
 ^H RutI ie !'' said a clear sweet voice, I had not 
 heard lor many a long day, w^hile a soft cheek 
 was held up to my lips to be kissed ; — the 
 brown loving eyes and long black hair were all my 
 own, I had known both so well in the long ago, 
 ever since my dear mother placed her baby of a few 
 weeks old in my arms, telling me I must be her 
 mamma ; to feed and care for her little helpless body ; 
 and, if she lived, 1 must teach her to keep God's 
 commandments, and believe in the Lord Jesus Christ ; 
 — that she, herself, had been called by the Lord of 
 Life to go on a long journey, where neither Ella nor 
 I could go until we were called as she had been, 
 * but,' added she, * I will wait for my dear Ruth all 
 the days of her mortal life, and the first words I shall 
 ask of her when she enters those far Heavens, will be, 
 
 • What have you done with Ella?' " 
 
 I did my very best. I was only twelve years old 
 then, but I had had a praying and teaching mother, 
 one who instructed me from my earliest years to be 
 
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 €8 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 ^$ 
 
 ? r 
 
 
 a seeker after p'^rfection ; to be ever striving to move 
 forward, and ad ranee up the straight and narrow 
 way of life ; and, child as I was myself, I watched 
 ^he unfolding of the bud, the opening of the flower 
 in my baby sister, both in mind and body; — I 
 watched her weak baby eyes grow strong, and 
 brown, and soft, — I watched the little pale brown 
 down, become soft, glossy black hair, I could measure 
 with my finger ; and as soon as she could understand 
 what I said, I taught her as I had been taught myself, 
 — the Sermon on the Mount, as a rule for her life ; 
 I told her of Jesus and the great salvation ; God 
 willed that my poor humble labours should not be 
 vain, — the seed sown in much weakness and with 
 many fears, produced an abundant harvest. 
 
 I had much to be thankful for in our position, my 
 grandfather, a retired half-pay officer, could give us 
 food and shelter, and that was all he was able to do ; 
 his narrow income barely sufficing for the household 
 expenses, although these were most economically 
 conducted by a woman who had entered his house 
 w^ith his wife, thirty-five years before ; poor Janet 
 w^ould have dressed us both in cloth of gold if she 
 could, but her wages of three pounds per annum 
 barely sufficed to clothe herself; while the modest 
 sum coming half-yearly to grandpapa, required to be 
 eked out by the most rigid economy, in order to 
 enable him to purchase a suit of wearing clothes, a 
 very modest amount of pocket handkerchiefs, shirts 
 and flannels, — such a thing as his buying a better 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 69 
 
 5 move 
 
 larroW 
 
 atched 
 
 flower 
 
 (ly \- 1 
 I or and 
 
 brown 
 neasure 
 [erstand 
 
 myself, 
 ler life; 
 m; God 
 i not be 
 md with 
 
 ^ion, my 
 give lis 
 
 fie to do ; 
 
 ousehold 
 oraically 
 is house 
 lor Janet 
 »ld if she 
 tr annnm 
 |e modest 
 Ted to be 
 order to 
 clothes, a 
 fs, shirts 
 a better 
 
 suit never occurred during the ten years I lived in 
 the house, nor do I believe he, himself, or Janet 
 cither thought such a purchase at all necessary. 
 
 I well remember the care with which his • Sabbath 
 claes,' as she called them, were brushed and folded 
 by Janet each Monday morning, having been previ- 
 ously aired on the black currant bushes surrounding 
 the back green, to give them a 'caller smell,' and 
 then placed in the drawer kept sacred to their use, 
 newspaper above and below, plentifully strewn with 
 lavender leaves and flowers. 
 
 Grandpai)a was styled Major Douglas, (I strongly 
 suspect from the small sum his half-pay amounted to, 
 his Majority must have been a brevet rank, notwith- 
 standing Janet's favourite story of his having refused 
 a Colonelcy.) Poor old gentleman, he had his extra- 
 vagances, of which Janet complained loudly ; not to 
 himself, or even in his presence, such a thing would 
 have been simply impossible, but to myself or a stray 
 neighbour, or the milk-woman, or her companion and 
 favorite gossip. Miss Robertson's servant, an ancient 
 damsel of her own age. The Major had four hats, none 
 of which did I ever see renewed, nor did they seem to 
 need it, they never grew older, nor did they seem to 
 suffer from what Janet styled ' the Major's w^asteful- 
 ness ; ' the Sabbath hat he was never trusted with, 
 it was laid out on Sunday morning after breakfast, 
 and as carefully put aside as * the Sabbath claes ; ' — 
 the second best hat was worn on his daily visits to 
 the town ; (we lived in the suburbs,) these visits being 
 
f 
 
 
 70 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 A 
 
 LJ 
 
 'I 
 
 ■ I 
 
 paid every forenoon to read the newspapers, and go tc 
 the post-office, which he did regularly each day, 
 receiving letters five or six times a year ; — the other 
 two were, the one for the long walk ho daily took 
 towards the country, the other for the garden, yard, 
 etcetra. 
 
 The Major's carelessness of his second l>est hat was 
 a great thorn in the flesh to Janet ; its proper place 
 was on the side table in the sitting parlour, yet the 
 Major in his forgetfulness, hung it up in the little 
 entrance hall, day after day ; often have I been a 
 listener to the outpourings of her distress on such 
 occasions. 
 
 " For ony sake, look at the Major's second best hat 
 hangin' there, and the big door as wide open as gin 
 we keepit a public, and this was the day of a Marti- 
 mas market," and taking it down, she would blow 
 off the dust with all her might, and smooth the pile 
 with her apron, and between each fit of blowing 
 and rubbing, bewail her own hard fate, and the care- 
 less extravagance of her master. 
 
 " Oh they officers, they're a' the same, gin it was his 
 Sabbath hat, it wad be the same thing ; ye wad think 
 it wad be easier for himsel' to tak aft' his hat i'the 
 parlour and pit it doon on the side table, bit na, 
 that wid'na dee wi' the Major, he's just like a ten 
 year auld ; in he steps and never steeks a door after 
 him, bit lats a' the stour o' the street come in on the 
 stair carpet, and the twa basses ; and up gangs his 
 gude town hat to get a share o' a' the dust that's 
 
 I;.. 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS, 
 
 71 
 
 jraen ; mony a day I hae thought it was a gracious 
 J*rovidence that took Ihe mistress awa when she 
 uaed, for forbye the death o' the bairns, (she alluded 
 to the death of my mother and aunt, both of whom 
 died after their mother,) she couldna stan what I 
 have to dee ilka day I rise ; the waste and destruc- 
 tion that gangs on in this house, naebody wad believe ; 
 that gude stair carpet that she coft hersel, nae twa 
 years afore she deet, widna be worth a penny piece 
 gin I didi»a keep it weel coverit a' the time, and 
 the siller he gies to the beggars is past speaking 
 about ; nae content wi' a loke o' meal or a bit piece, 
 that I aye gie mysel ; I'm feard to speak aboon 
 my breath, fan a beggar comes to the door, gin he 
 gets wit o' them, gin he was readin' his Bible, it 
 wid'na keep him frae the door; out he wad be, 
 and his hand in his pouch i'the minnit; — and its 
 nae them that needs it maist that he gies till, I 
 ^adna grudge a penny noo and then to the auld 
 blind fiddler, or yet to the sailor man that has his legs 
 afF; but there's twa, three stout auld kegs that's as 
 able to wark as I am, comin' roun' wi' their grey 
 cloaks ower their heads, and baskets fu' o' a' thing 
 that they get frae glakit cuttys o' servin' lasses, for 
 tellin' their fortins wi' the dregs o' tea that they steal 
 out o' their mistress' press. I ca' it a great sin to gie 
 filler to the like o' them, jest encouraging them in 
 their ill deein, an idle set ; — but the Major ill pit his 
 hand in his pouch for them as fast as ye like. I aye 
 try to keep the bawbees gae scarce up the stair and 
 
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 72 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 pit them in till a jelly jug that's in the kitchen presft 
 and whiles when he has naethinj? but white siller 
 himseV, he'll speir gin there's oiiy bawbees doon the 
 stair; and gae aften I say " No iSir," whan I think 
 that them he's gaen to gie them till doesna need, them, 
 and ye wad wonder how headstrong he is whan he 
 likes himsel' ; aye day, auld Elspit Thompson came 
 roun', and she comes aftener than ony body's seekin' 
 her, and nae i'the morning like ither decent folk that's 
 i'orced to seek their bit, na, that wouljlna serve hor, 
 its aye about dinner time, when she thinks the Major 
 'ill be comin' hame, I never gae her onything myseP 
 sin the day that she ca'd me a pockmarkit illfaurt 
 skate ; and she's no blate ; — I daresay that she tell't 
 the Major, at ony rate, she came to the door after him 
 aye day, and chappit afore he had time to hing up 
 his staff in the lobby ; whan he saw faa it was, he^ 
 speart gin I had ony bawbees down the stair ? 'No Sir," 
 says I, and I said in low to mysel', ' nae for her, — 
 but I'll gie her a puckle meal.' ' Never min',' says: 
 he, ' I'll sair her mysel',' and afore ye could say twice 
 ane's twa, he out wi' a white saxpence, and pits it in 
 her hand ; what think ye o' that ? Its my thought 
 that a' they officers is demented whiles. And what 
 think ye was the upshot o't, she waited till he turned 
 his back to gang into the parlour, and me standin' 
 wi' the door sneck in my hand, and sine she put out, 
 her tongue in my face, and gaed her wa's down the- 
 brae ; gin a' the young leddies that rins after the- 
 officers kent them as weel as I dee, they wad rin frae 
 them i'the place o' after them." 
 
 L;.. 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 78 
 
 I taught Ella all I knew myself ; to play a little on 
 the piano, to read and v, rite her own language as 
 well as most girls do, a little geography, a little arith- 
 metic, and I taught her to read and speak French as. 
 well as any lady in the land, as I myself had learned 
 it in old Oannis where I was bred and born. I had 
 a class of young ladies at times numbering four, at 
 times six, never more, to whom I taught what 1 
 knew of my native language for the modest sura of 
 a guinea a quarter ; with this money, we were both 
 clothed for eight years, my labours not commencing 
 until my fourteenth year, not from want of will on my 
 own part but from want of confidence in my powers 
 by those around me. 
 
 These were happy days as they sped along and the 
 remembrance of them is sweet and pleasant still. 
 
 Then the time came when I discovered that Ella- 
 w^ould soon know all I could teach her, and I con- 
 sulted our neighbour Miss Robertson, as to what was. 
 to be done, so that I might make enough of money 
 to send Ella to a boarding school ; she was about 
 paying her yearly visit of three months to Edinburgh 
 and offered to bring me with her, and to give her aid 
 in finding me a situation, the reader is already 
 acquainted with the result. 
 
 Ella had, as she expressed it, lots of things to tell 
 me, and Miss Pierce insisted that I should hear her 
 play, and sing, and read German, so that the allotted 
 time for our interview was almost gone ere I could 
 tell of my intended journey, but as it now appeared. 
 
HI 1 
 
 [Tlr 
 
 ^ 
 
 74 
 
 THE GRAND OORD0N3. 
 
 a light task in my own eyes, so it seemed in hers, and 
 we anticipated meeting again ere the year was out 
 in our old home, Miss Pierce ofl'ering me a situation 
 in her school, as French teacher, saying she would 
 also retain Ella and let her continue her studies in 
 the higher branches, on condition she should instruct 
 the younger pupils in what she already knew , this 
 was a fair offer and a good opening, and was accepted 
 conditionally ; in a few minutes more, I was gazing 
 after the railway train which was bearing Ella and 
 her kind teacher onwards to Melrose 
 
 • (. 
 
 ahitfffiflCiilMlrtftitfl 
 
hers, and 
 ,r was out 
 a situation 
 she would 
 studies in 
 Id instruct 
 :new, this 
 IS accepted 
 vas gazing 
 g Ella and 
 
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CHAPTER 7, 
 
 Reading the Will. 
 
 ^N returning to Leith, I found the friends and 
 relatives of the deceased were just about 
 assembling in the dining-room, where the 
 will was to be read ; in passing up to my own room, I 
 was met by Marion descending the staircase, who 
 Tequested me to go to the dining-room with the rest, 
 it being the desire of her Ladyship that all the mem- 
 bers of her household should be present at the 
 leading of her will. 
 
 I seated myself in a recess formed by the sideboard 
 and one of the window ?,, so as to avoid observation 
 as much as possible. 
 
 The gentler ii*^n were all seated around the table. 
 Sir Robert at tho bottom, looking in his mourning 
 as he ough. o have done by right of his birth and 
 breeding, like a gentleman; Gordon of Haight, a 
 large, grey-haired old man, at the top ; looking as he 
 always must have done from his boyhood upwards — 
 gentle and grand, — while among the lawyers, and 
 opposite the relatives sat Captain Percy, those tall 
 
WW' 
 
 76 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 fMH' 
 
 proud Seatons looking at him with fierce eyes and 
 scowling brows, as if they would fain annihilate and 
 sweep him from their presence. 
 
 To my surprise, not Mr. Morton, but Mr. Peter 
 Farquharson, a writer to the Signet, from Edinburgh,, 
 produced and read the will. 
 
 It was very short; the executors were Robert 
 Morton, Gordon of Haight, and Seaton of Thurlow, 
 on the death of one or more, the survivors to have 
 power to appoint others. 
 
 Ten thousand pounds to Sir Robert, this to be 
 increased to twenty thousand, in case of the return 
 of Sir Reginald, (her Ladyship's eldest son from 
 whom they had not heard for fifteen years.) A 
 legacy of one hundred pounds to myself. Small 
 legacies to each of the servants, several hundred 
 pounds to be put out at interest to form small annui- 
 ties of five pounds a year each, to poor men and 
 women who used to be the recipients of bounty from 
 a hand that gave freely. 
 
 The rest of her money amounting to over fifty 
 thousand pounds, together with the house and 
 grounds in Leith, was left to Margaret Gordon, only 
 daughter of the deceased ; the interest thereof to be 
 paid quarterly to her own order only ; the principal 
 tied up in the most stringent manner, so that until 
 the death of Captain Percy, it could not be touched. 
 
 In case of his demise preceding that of his wife, 
 the money was to be wholly under her own control : 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 77 
 
 I>i\t in no case was this money to be used to liquidate 
 iuiy debts of Captain IV'icy. 
 
 iShould Mrs. Percy die before her husband, small 
 x'lms were to be paid to each of the children, upon 
 their attaining the age of thirty-five years ; the house 
 .uid grounds at Leith to be converted into an hospital 
 for old or sick men and women of the name of 
 Gordon or Seaton, the money to endow the same. 
 
 Mr. Farquharson stopped reading, as if here the 
 will ended, but not a Gordon or Seaton pi3sent 
 moved ; and from the faces of more than one, I could 
 uather that the gist of the document was yet to come. 
 
 Captain Percy's face expresssd the rage he felt; 
 he stood up as if to retire, but seeing that no one 
 olse moved, he again seated himself. 
 
 Sir Robert seemed to take a boyish pleasure in the 
 evident discomliture of his worthy brother-in-law, 
 who, it was ea^iiy seen, he hated cordially ; he, on 
 his own part, being pleasantly surprised by finding 
 himself ten thousand pounds richer than he supposed 
 he would have been, Gordon of Haight having told 
 him the day succeeding Lady Gordon's death, that 
 lie did not think there was anything for him, as his 
 mother considered she had done enough in giving 
 over her jointer house and lands, which he had 
 enjoyed for several years. 
 
 " Codicil," again began Mr. Farquharson, in a voice 
 somewhat louder than he had used in his previous 
 reading: and, after a long pause, ho read the date, 
 (one I well remembered ; the day on which the letter 
 
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 W' 
 
 78 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 announcing 
 
 Mrs. Percy's death was read so com- 
 posedly by htr mother, and yet made such « 
 revolution i i the household,) and then clearing hiy 
 throat, he began— 
 
 " I make this codicil to my will, in consequence of 
 having this day received a letter from Captain PercV:, 
 informing me of the death of my daughter Margaret ; 
 not one word of which I believe, on the contrary, 1 
 believe my child to be alive, and that she will yet 
 claim her inheritance. And further, I believe the 
 motive of Captain Percy in representing my daughter 
 as dead, to be a desire on his part that I will give 
 him a sum of money for the possession of his children, 
 and in consequence of this my belief, I now revoke the 
 portion of my testament anent the disposal of the 
 money and property left to n?.y daughter Margaret, 
 therein." 
 
 •' I now will ten thousand pounds to be delivered 
 over to Robert Morton, of the firm of Wood and 
 Morton, writers to the Signet in Edinburgh, by him 
 to be placed out at interest, and used as long as 
 necessary for the furtherance of the scheme confided 
 by me to him in the presence of Gordon of llaight, 
 and Seaton of Thurlow." (As the lawyer read the 
 names of these gentlemen, he rested his eye for a 
 second, on each, as if appealing to them for confirm- 
 ation of what ho read; which, on their part, was 
 acknowledged by a bow of assent,) " he to be impow- 
 ered to use both principal and interest thereof, oi 
 which money he is to give an account to no one" 
 
THE GRANr GORDONS. 
 
 7^ 
 
 As this clause was read, Sir Robert moved uneasily 
 in his chair ; Captain Percy rose half up, his cheeks, 
 pufled up, and muttered something like " cheat," but 
 was at once reproved by the cool lawyer who was 
 reading the will, looking him full in the face over his 
 spectacles, and Mr. Gordon of Haight who raised 
 his hand to injoin silence. 
 
 " The whole of my money remaining after the 
 aforesaid mentioned sums are paid, being the sum of 
 forty thousand pounds and upwards ; I devise and 
 bequeath to my daughter, the said Margaret Gordon^ 
 also the house and grounds now occupied by me 
 in the suburbs of Leith, called Rockgirtisle House ; 
 and I advise her to make said house her home, at 
 least until after the death of Captain Percy ; during 
 his lifetime she is to receive the interest of the afore- 
 said money, quarterly, to be paid into her own hand^ 
 and payable in no other way. She having no power 
 over the principal unless she survive Captain Percy, 
 and this money is in no case to be available for the 
 payment of his debts." 
 
 " Until the said Margaret Gordon return to her 
 home, the house to be kept in its present state in 
 every way, awniting her return, and that ibr the space 
 of lifty years, Marion Mitchell to be retnined as house- 
 keeper at a salary of forty pounds per annum." 
 
 " In case of the dejith of said Marion Mitchell 
 
 » 
 
 another responsible person to be appointed by my 
 executors, toi»'ether with such a number of servants 
 as she may deem necessary." 
 
 
w 
 
 li ilTl 
 
 n 
 
 80 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONg. 
 
 " Should Captain Percy refuse to take charge of his 
 children, Leonora and Charles Percy, now living at 
 Morningside, they are to be removed to Rockgirtislo 
 House, in Leith, and a proper governess provided for 
 them, until they are of age to be sent to school, they 
 are to be educated as befitting my grandchildren ; the 
 boy to be taught any profession he may choose ; they 
 are each to be entitled to the sum of ten thousand 
 pounds on arriving at the age of thirty-five years." 
 
 '* Should their father take these children into his 
 own charge, as is most fitting he should do, the sum 
 of ten thousand pounds aforesaid is not to be given 
 to them, but will be disposed of by my executors as 
 I shall further direct." 
 
 " Fifty years from the date of my death, should my 
 daughter, Margaret Gordon, not have returned to 
 claim her heritage, the house ii Leith is then to be 
 converted into an Hospital for old or sick men and 
 women of the name of Gordon or Seaton, or those 
 descended from parents or grandparents of the names 
 of Gordon or Seaton." 
 
 As the lawyer laid the document upon the table, 
 I could not help thinking what a good study for an 
 artist, the group seated around would make ; Captain 
 Percy, the most conspicuous figure in the picture. 
 He got up more than once, pushed his chair a little 
 "back, his face pale as death, — his nostrils distended, 
 eyes and mouth expressive of rage, and deadly hate, 
 —then seating himself, appeared as if about to give 
 vent to the passion he was evidently unable to con- 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 81 
 
 -ceal; Sir Robert, at the foot of the table, sat h^anini»- 
 on his arms w hich were folded on the table, his face 
 turned towards his brother-in-law, absolutely ii'leam- 
 injT with the, fun he seemed to derive from the 
 discomfiture of the other ; he too had to exercise a 
 more than usual amount of self-control in order to 
 prevent himself givinjiv utterance to the mirth I'ul 
 satisfaction the appearance and situation of Captain 
 Percy gave rise to; every second or two, he directed 
 his eyes to the top of the table, and seizino- a moment 
 when Gordon of Ilaight's eyes were bent upon a 
 paper which Mr. Farquharson had just handed him, 
 Sir Kobert made his enemy (for such they evidently 
 were), a mocking congratulatory bow, which in its 
 serio-comic expression was almost irresistible, and 
 occasioned several of those who observed it to have 
 recourse to their pocket-handkerchiefs. 
 
 Exactly opposite to Captain Percy sat two sons of 
 Seaton of Thurlow, large dark men, as were all their 
 race ; these gentlemen were very tall handsome men, 
 several inches over six feet high, and so much alike 
 in appearance that Lady Gordon, with whom they 
 were both especial favourites, used to call them " The 
 great twin Brethren." I had been told long since, 
 that the elder, and heir to his lather's land, was at 
 one time an admirer of his cousin, and would most 
 likely have been a suitor for her hand, but for the 
 hard fate which introduced her to Captain Percy, 
 with his wit and skill in pleasing ; be this as it may, 
 these young men sat with folded arms leaning back 
 
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 «^1 
 
 82 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 in their chairs ; never for one moment relaxing thes 
 steady gaze of their fierce black eyes from Captain.*. 
 Percy's face, of which he was evidently conscious^, 
 and winced under without the courage to return it. 
 
 At last, his passion, together with the annoyance of 
 being stared at so unscrupulously by the two Seatons,. 
 and scoffed at by Sir Robert, became unbearable, and 
 rising again he pushed back his chair with no gentle 
 hand, muttered something which seemed like " I hope 
 the old Hecate will see the revenge I shall take," and 
 was about to leave the room when Mr. Gordon look- 
 ing up from the papers he was slill occupied in 
 examining, and entirely unconscious of the fight in 
 dumb show which had been taking place, requested 
 Captain Percy to remain for a few minutes, adding, 
 " it is desirable that all the business which can be* 
 arranged here shall be done at once." 
 
 Captain Percy reseated himself, and as he did so^ 
 gave a look of defiance to the two Seatons opposite ;; 
 Mr. Grordon hemmed, a deprecatory hem, as if he- 
 knew he was going to say something which would 
 be ill received, and which was forced upon him to* 
 say, will or nil, by his position. 
 
 " "We are to dine here to-day, in order to give us 
 more time to arrange all the preliminary steps to the 
 will of the deceased being carried into effect with as. 
 little delay as possible, and in case you are pre- 
 engaged and cannot join us at dinner, I wish to say 
 that if it is your intention to remove your children 
 from the care of Lady Gordon's executors, we will 
 
 U 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 83 
 
 be glad to have this done at once, the children are 
 now, as you are aware, in the house, and if such is 
 your wish, they will be delivered into your charge 
 previous to your departure. 
 
 "While Mr. Gordon spoke, Captain Percy's face 
 assumed an almost livid hue, he struggled to appear 
 calm, but it would not do, he trembled in every limb, 
 as he stood up and faced Mr Gordon, at same time, 
 taking in with a sweep of his eye, the two young 
 Seatons, he sputtered out rather than spoke — 
 
 " The children you speak of are Lady Gordon's 
 grandchildren, that is certain, and as such I will have 
 nothing to do with them ; you may hang, draw and 
 quarter them for aught I care, one shilling of my 
 money shall never be spent to buy a biscuit for them, 
 were they starving. Lady Gordon thought that she 
 achieved a great success when she excluded me so 
 effectually from any participation in the money which 
 alone bought me to become her son-in-law ; but if the 
 spirits of the wicked see what is done on earth, I'll 
 make her weep tears cI fire and blood for that very 
 will, in her fiery home." 
 
 The last words had scarcely left his lips ere Sir 
 Robert and the two young Seatons were beside him 
 preventing his egress by the door which he was 
 attempting to reach ; Hugh Seaton seizing him by 
 the throat and almost lifting him from the floor. 
 
 " No brawling here, loosen your hautls boys," said 
 Gordon of Haight, in a commanding determined tone.. 
 
 Sir Kobert and Harry Seaton looked as if undeter- 
 
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 84 
 
 THE OIIAND aORDONS. 
 
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 mined whether to obey the voice they had evidently 
 been accustomed to pay respect to, or the angry 
 impulse of their own hearts. 
 
 Not so Hug-h Soaton, who still kept his grasp of 
 Captain Percy's throat, the latter's face almost livid 
 purple. Meantime, Seaton of Thurlow rose from his 
 seat, and walking leisurely up to the hostile pair, 
 loosened his son's hands, saying as he did so — 
 
 " Na Hugh, my man, that winna dae ; if ye want to 
 kill the fox, I'll no go between ye, but unearth him 
 from his own hole." 
 
 " That's not so easy done," replied his son, evidently 
 very angry with the interference he had neverthe- 
 less yielded to, " you could catch an eel in the river 
 sooner than him ; I have been waiting this chance 
 for years." 
 
 " Weel my son, ye maun e'en wait a while longer, * 
 replied his father, " and its my advice to ye whan ye 
 fight wi' chaps of his size, to tak pistols wi' ye, or 
 else give him a father's correction and let him go; its 
 hardly fair for a man o' your size to go to handycuffs 
 wi' a little chap like yon." 
 
 Ere Mr. Seaton finished speaking. Captain Percy 
 liad taken himself off, arranging the collar of his coat, 
 which had been sadly pushed from its wonted smooth, 
 precise folds, by Hugh Seaton, and muttering some- 
 thing about bringing the police, as he went out, 
 ■banging the hall door twice, with violence enough 
 to make the old house ring again. 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS 
 
 85 
 
 Duiiiicf all that long afternoon, I in vain tried to 
 see Mr. Morton alone, so that I might communicate 
 to him what I had heard from Captain Percy's wife. 
 &nd which I deemed might be of the utmost import- 
 ance for him to know previous to their departure 
 from Edinburgh ; which the lady had assured mo 
 would be immediately after his return from the 
 funeral. 
 
 They were seated at dinner before I could obtain 
 access to him in any way, then 1 wrote a note in 
 which I briefly stated what I had heard in Kay's 
 Hotel, and from whom ; and that I would w^ait, desir- 
 ing the man who served table, to deliver it at onco 
 to Mr Morton 
 
 In a few minutes, he joined me in the library. I 
 there told him all I knew, and that Mrs. Percy 
 expected to leave Edinburgh the same day. 
 
 " I doubt that," replied he, " as I know Percy has 
 been trying to effect a loan of money from a man in 
 that line m Edinburgh ; and I also doubt his ability 
 to go without some such suj)ply ; however, I must 
 at once go to Kay's, I do not think Percy has returned 
 yet, and if not, I shall try to get a little more inform- 
 ation from his wife." 
 
 "While the sound of his voice yet lingered in my 
 ear, he w^as gone. 
 
 1 did not see him again until the evening, when I 
 was sent for to meet the executors in the dining-room, 
 where Mr. Morton was informing Mr. Gordon and 
 Seaton of Thurlow of what I had heard from Mrs. 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 Percy in the morning, and of his own interview with 
 her an hour or two previous, which was effected by 
 his sending up his card to Captain Percy, who he had 
 ascertained was at that moment busily occupied in a 
 Billiard Saloon with his friend Mr. Morrison. 
 
 Both gentlemen expressed their surprise and satis- 
 faction at the discovery which had been made, Mr. 
 Gordon saying — 
 
 " The whole of this day's proceedings have been 
 the Lord's doings, and wondrous in our eyes ; I have 
 known Lady Gordon, girl, wife and widow for half 
 a century, and all that time, I believe her to have, to 
 the best of her ability, served the God of her fathers, 
 and now He is answering her prayers for her children, 
 even after she, herself, has passed from earth forever ; 
 you saw how Percy gave up the children, yea, even 
 cast them off, while we, with less faith than she had, 
 feared there might be much trouble to get them from 
 him, and no little waste of money in bribing him 
 therefor." [I found afterwards that Lady Gordon had 
 drawn five thousand pounds and given it in trust to 
 these gentlemen, before her death, to be given as a 
 bribe to induce Captain Percy to make over his chil- 
 dren, by letters of adoption, to them, and as it was 
 expected that on hearing of Lady Gordon's death, he 
 would demand a copy of her will, the mention of this 
 WJiS purposely omitted therein.] "And now,'* con- 
 tinued he, " by what men call the merest accident, 
 we find how her desire of discovering where the 
 body of her daughter is laid, and having it brought 
 
^Hi 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 87 
 
 tto her native land, can be safely and easily accom- 
 plished, instead of being what it seemed yesterday 
 almost an impossibility.'' 
 
 After a pause, Mr. Gordon, addressing me, said — 
 " I suppose you will be ready in a week or two. to 
 proceed on your mission ?" 
 
 " I am ready to go ;iow,'' replied I, " and prefer 
 •doing so as soon as possible, I have nothing to detain 
 me here, and the sooner I go, will have the less ditii- 
 "culty in executing what I have undertaken." 
 
 " I anticipate little trouble," replied Mr. Gordon. 
 ■" in your search, if you go about it in a systematic 
 manner. Captain Percy is a Catholic, and, no doubt, 
 has had his wife interred according to the rites of 
 his Church, and in a Catholic cemetery, hence your 
 plan is to go first to one Catholic Church, and then 
 to another, paying the usual fee to be allowed to look 
 at the list of interments which have been registered 
 Tor the three months preceding and following the 
 time at which Captain Percy said her death took 
 places as he lied about the place of her death, so he 
 may have lied about the time ; it may have taken 
 place six months or even a year previous to the time 
 he says ; it was to his advantage to conceal his wife's 
 death as long as possible — he knew while her mother 
 believed her to be alive, she would continue to send 
 her usual quarterly remittance, which I fancy was 
 pretty much all they had to depend upon, as by his 
 *own account, he sold his commission soon after his 
 ajrrival in India ; — his bringing her to New York and 
 
 
 
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 88 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 W^ 
 
 afterwards to Montreal, entirely among- Frenc?if 
 people, was most likely done with an intention of 
 concealing her death as long as it was safe to do so.'" 
 
 " That is certainly the case," said Mr. Morton, " as. 
 by comparing the time of his second marriage with 
 the date of his letter announcing the death of his 
 wife, I find he must have been married at least six 
 or nine months previous ; — it* may have been a year, 
 as I could not, without exciting her suspicions as to- 
 my motive, question her closely enough on the sub- 
 ject, but as she was married previous to his coming 
 home last year, and accompanied him as far as 
 England, where he left her during the flying visit he 
 paid to his children, it is too evident he concealed the- 
 death of his wife for some time after it took place." 
 
 Marion had been a silent listener to this conversa* 
 tion ; she was standing by the sideboard when I 
 entered, and remained there without exciting any^ 
 notice, she was a privileged servant in right of her- 
 twenty-five years faithful service ; she had been Mrs. 
 Percy's teacher as well as nurse, until her seventh, 
 year, and ever held a place far above the other 
 servants, never even eating with them ; — it did not 
 then surprise any one present, nor did they seem to- 
 consider it an intrusion when she came forward to> 
 the table where the gentlemen were seated, and still 
 standing, (although Mr. Morton at once offered her 
 a chair) said — 
 
 "Grentlemen, you have, perhaps, forgotten that 
 Lady Gordon never thought of searching for Miss, 
 
 ; 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 89- 
 
 Tiny's grave until it was fully ascertained she was 
 dead ; when she intended going to India, she never 
 once talked of searching for her daughter's grave, it 
 was for herself she was to seek, and it was to find 
 Miss Tiny, not her grave that Miss St. Clare promised 
 her Ladyship ; it was I in my unbelief at the time,, 
 who suggested the grave should be sought for and 
 the body brought home, and mentioned the marks 
 by which it could be recognized." 
 
 " And you did well, Marion," replied the old gentle- 
 man, " Lady Grordon's idea of her daughter's being 
 in life, was a fond thing vainly imagined, she loved 
 her so dearly she could not bear the thought of having 
 to part with her, and by dwelling on the one idea 
 it became so fixed in her imagination that to her it 
 was as much a reality as if it were part of her religious 
 belief; but to all others it was a myth, and you have 
 within the last half hour, heard the account of her 
 death corroborated by both Miss St. Clare and Mr. 
 Morton, who have seen and spoken to his second 
 wife ; this woman has, no doubt, been Tiny's maid 
 or some such person in her employment; do you 
 think it is likely she would have become his wife 
 unless she was certain his first wife was dead ? — and 
 that she is his wife, we have had full proof, her name 
 is entered as Mrs. Percy, beside his in Kay's guest 
 book, and she has been introduced to Morrison the 
 lawyer, as his wife ; she is to spend this evening 
 at Morrison's house with his family ; do you think 
 Captain Percy would dare to introduce her in this. 
 
 !;,; :' || 
 
 ii 
 
p 
 
 BS3I M 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 ^0 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 way if she were not his wife ? Or would he dare, on 
 the other hand, to marry her, his wife being yet 
 aUve, and thus expose himself at any moment to 
 become the inmate of a prison? Besides, he had 
 nothing to gain, but all to lose by Tiny's death ; as long 
 as she lived he was certain of a fair income, and if 
 she survived her mother, her income would then be 
 such as to make him a wealthy man; we all know 
 he was notoriously lazy, what then could be his 
 motive in throwing away a handsome income, 
 together with a beautiful wife, whom, there is no 
 question, he loved, whatever his other faults may 
 have been ; and by living a lie, to throw himself on 
 his own resources for his daily bread ?" 
 
 ** But Mr. Grordon," urged Marion, who had in the 
 fullest sense of the word, adopted Lady Gordon's 
 idea of Mrs. Percy's being still alive, " did he not say 
 in presence of you all to-day, that he only married 
 Miss Tiny for her mother's money ? — and did not the 
 woman he calls his wife say that he constantly quar- 
 Telled with Mrs. Percy because she would not write 
 to her mother for money to pay his gambling debts ? 
 "Would to Grod, she had let that be known at home. 
 Lady Grordon would have gone to the end of the earth 
 to bring her to Scotland, if she had only thought she 
 would come." 
 
 "Well, Marion, as to what Captain Percy said to- 
 4ay, we know that it is false, we have never believed 
 him to be a truthful man, and he made that speech 
 its a sort of retaliation on the dead, because he was so 
 
 ; lit;: 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 91 
 
 cfiectually cut out from any participation in her 
 money; Lady Gordon herself, (and as you know, 
 there could have been no one in this world who loved 
 him less) never accused him of marrying for money ; 
 no doubt, if he had not been sure that Lady Gordon 
 would have given liberally to her daughter, he could 
 not have married, as he knew what we did not then, 
 that he had nothing of his own ; but as to his marry- 
 ing for money, that was a falsehood; he married 
 s, beautiful and accomplished girl, one who could 
 have married into the best families in the land, and 
 who was sought by several of the handsomest young 
 men in Edinburgh — without a bawbee." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, gentlemen, for intruding my 
 humble opinions on you who know so much better 
 than myself, but his tiring of his wife would be just 
 a part of his character ; and what the woman in Edin- 
 burgh says is likely to be too true ; he never had a 
 dog or a horse that he cared for three months ; well 
 do I recollect his selling a pair of beautiful grays 
 that Lady Gordon bought for their pony carriage, 
 and getting black horses in their place, and in six 
 v/eeks they were changed for fawn-coloured ; it is 
 just as likely he left Miss Tiny among the French 
 people he took her to, in some out of the way place 
 that she cannot get out of. Oh, Mr. Gordon, I could 
 not face my mistress in eternity, if Tiny is not brought 
 home ; let Miss St. Clare stay and take care of the 
 house, and let me go and search for Tiny." 
 
 ** My good woman," said Mr. Gordon, who now 
 
 
 
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 92 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS, 
 
 seemed a little irritated by her pertinacity, " you are 
 speaking about what you know nothing of — men do 
 not tire of their wives as they do of their horses^ 
 especially when their wives are young, and beautiful, 
 moreover, Tiny was an heiress expectant, of forty or 
 fifty thousand pounds ; Besides, what you say of his 
 leaving her among the French people in an out of the 
 "vs'ay place, is simply nonsense ; the city of Montreal 
 is a much larger one than Edinburgh and Leith put 
 together, and there are full as many English people as 
 there are French in it ; if she is alive, why does she 
 not write home ? Why has she not written home 
 for the last fifteen months ? — And as to your going 
 to Canada, in place of an educated person like Miss 
 St. Clare, it would merely defeat the object we have 
 in view ; she speaks French, and therefore can make 
 herself understood by both classes of the people, you 
 could not ; besides, we have no power to do this, 
 Lady Grordon's will is most explicit ; Abide by the 
 trust reposed in you by your mistress ; if Tiny is alive, 
 it is more likely she will come home to the house in 
 which she was bred and born than remain among 
 strangers, and it was with a view to your keeping 
 the house ever open for her, as well as its being i 
 home for her children that Lady Gordon ordered it 
 to be kept in its present state for such a length of 
 time, and you to have charge of it as long as you 
 live." 
 
 If Marion was not convinced, she was silent, and 
 turning from the table, left the room. 
 
■.k 
 it 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 .93 
 
 Mr. Morton at once entered on the arrangements 
 for my departure, which was settled to take place 
 the next day, when I was to leave Edinburgh 
 for Grlasgow, and thence for Montreal on the day 
 following, by one of the mail steamers. I was 
 l^rovided with a sum of money sulhcient for my 
 expenses for six months, given me by a bill payable 
 in Montreal, and I was to be furnished with letters 
 of introduction to one or two persons there who 
 would help me in my search. 
 
 On reaching the first landing on my way to my 
 own apartment, I involuntarily opened the door of 
 Lady Gordon's room, where for a year past, I had 
 been accustomed to enter twenty times a day, always 
 the first place in the morning, always the last place 
 at night. I had only half opened the door, the lock 
 was still in my hand, when I was recalled to the 
 painful sense of the present, which had for a moment 
 been forgotten, (as we will forget all things, even the 
 sorrow which is to wrap us as a shroud for all our 
 lives long), by seeing Hugh Seaton standing in front 
 of the escritoire, his head laid on his hand as he leant 
 his elbow on the top of the secretary, which his great 
 height enabled him to do with ease ; Mrs. Percy's 
 picture had been removed from the opposite wall, 
 and was placed on top of the escritoire ; his back was 
 towards me, yet it was not necessary to read his 
 countenance to know that it was the fair face before 
 him which formed the attraction to that lonely room. 
 
 As I looked at his handsome figure, its size reduced 
 
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 94 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 by his black dress, his finely shaped head — the 
 portrait of the beautiful girl -^ and thought for a 
 moment of the loveliness of soul unfolded in those long 
 beautifully worded letters so replete with love and 
 grace — and again of the brave soldier now gazing on 
 her pictured face, who, while yet almost a boy, 
 achieved acts of the most heroic daring in the Indian 
 Rebellion, whose sword in the battle fell sharpest and 
 quickest, one whose hand was open as his heart, and 
 whose voice, now that he had taken his place in the 
 great senate of the land, rose loudest and strongest 
 for the poor man's right ; when I thought of all that 
 was — and of what might have been, the words of the 
 learned Frenchman came as if from Holy Writ. ' She 
 was of this world, where the things most beautiful 
 have always the worst destiny.' " 
 
 -•^aSfi:^^ 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A sad parting. 
 
 ^1 
 
 
 ' 
 
 A': 
 
 CAME to bid Mrs. Mitchell and yourself good 
 |[ bye," said I, entering the cottage where I had 
 Jfi*S) become so intimate during my residence in 
 Leith, as to make it unnecessary to announce my com- 
 ing by rapping at the door. The family consisting of 
 Saunders, his wife and son, were at breakfast, to 
 which the kind old man gave me a hearty invitation. 
 " I'm real glad to see you, mem, will ye sit doun 
 and tak pot luck wi' us ?" 
 
 " I have taken breakfast, but I would like to have a 
 cup ot Mrs. Mitchell's tea," said I, sitting down on 
 the chair placed for me by the young man. 
 
 "Whan are ye ga'en?" asked Mrs. Mitchell, and 
 without waiting for a reply, added — " The gudeman 
 was up at the house last night, after the funeral, and 
 Marion said that ye're no ga'en to the Indies now,^ 
 but to America, that Mrs. Percy's there, our Sandy 
 was once very fain to gang there." 
 
 " So I was, mother," said the lad, " An I would hae 
 been there noo, and maybe had land o' my ain, gin 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 yoii had'nu set your face clean against it ; it was a 
 black job for mo that I didna gang"." 
 
 In all my visits to the cottage, and they were many, 
 I had never before heard the sound of Sandy's voice, 
 indeed, seldom seen himself, if he happ«Mied to be 
 ])resent, he always took hims»>lf olf into another room ; 
 the lad spoke with a clear voice and in a determined, 
 allhough respectful manner, not at all as I should 
 have expected one of his habits to do, giving mc; a 
 more favourable impression of him than I had been 
 wont to entertain ; his mother sighed as she said in 
 reply — 
 
 " I did do that, Sandy, I stood out against your 
 going, for many a long day, and many a sore heart 
 I've had in the dark midnight, when everybody else 
 was sound sleepin', because I keepit ye back, I put 
 mysel' in the Lord's place whan I put against it, I 
 thought I could keep ye frae a' ill, gin ye were aye 
 wi' mysel', but in the place o' that, it has whiles made 
 me the most sorrowfu' woman that ever walked on 
 
 green grass 
 
 >» 
 
 ** If I had the money to pay my passage, I wad 
 gang noo," replied the lad, " But there's nae use 
 speakhig about ony thing o' the kind, I had it a' roun, 
 ance, and I would no be let go, and I'll never have 
 as much again, never." 
 
 He got up as if to leave the room, his face flushed, 
 as I fancied more in regret of the past than in anger, 
 although his eyes flashed with a quick light, as if he 
 
 
vm 
 
 i.r 
 
 THE GRAND CJOUDONrt. 
 
 'JT 
 
 Thought his backward coiirso was not all his own 
 i'uuU, his fiitluT turiiod towards him, saying — 
 
 " Sit doun, Sandy, my man, I want to say a word 
 •or twa aforo yo gani? out." The old man was sitting 
 on the same side of the little breakfast table as his son, 
 and putting his brown hand on the youth's shoulder, 
 Siiid "gin ye think ye'll dae better in America than 
 what ye can at hamo, I'll gie yc siller tao gang wi', the 
 want o' ten poun', or ten to that, wanna baud ye hero 
 a day langer than yo like to bide, and I'm sure your 
 inither winna say a word against it now." 
 
 The mother's face told a difTerent tale : she seemed 
 terror stricken, pale as death one moment, the next, 
 crimson. 
 
 " Oh gudeman," sad she, her voice trembling with 
 emotion, " "What maks ye pit such nonserso into his 
 head, the luudie does'na want to gang to Ameiica 
 noo, he might dee there and no ane to lift his head, 
 or gie him a drink o' cauld water, or nae minister to 
 speak a godly word to him." 
 
 " There's nae fear o' that, Elsie, woman, there's 
 godly folk in America as well as here, and them that 
 does well for themselves 'ill find kind folk a' tho 
 warld through, I would'na say but its the best thing 
 Sandy could dae, he can gang in the ship wi' Miss 
 St. Clare, and gin ho dinna like the place, he can 
 come back again wi' her, sae that he'll no be lang 
 -awa, gude wife." 
 
 " There's nae use steekin' the hallan door to keep 
 out the win' that never bbjw, father," said the young 
 
 
 
 11 
 
 
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 i\ 
 
 98 
 
 THE OIIAND OOUDONS. 
 
 man, " yo hiiv'im twrniy ponu' innir than I hao, nn<T 
 yo nood'nft think that Marion wad g-t^'it for mo to 
 ji:anQf to Amorica wi', I wad hao boen thcro lonp^ a^o 
 if who wouUl ha' lent nic ton jionn', but Hho tt'U't mo 
 very phiinly that she was foari'd I wad put it to an 
 ill uso." 
 
 *' AVool, maybo she is," replied his father, "but I'm 
 nae i'oard o' ony sic thing, sac gin ye say the word,, 
 ye'll jyet yer twenty poun', and ye can ge'it back to 
 me when ye hao doubled it lor yer sell," and turn- 
 inn* to his wile, he said, " ye hear what lie says, ]51sie, 
 gin he had had the siller, ho wad hao been olF lan?^ 
 sine ; think yo it wisest to let him jyaniic, s(mic day 
 that we ken naothing about it, wr holes in his stock- 
 ings, and maybo Jiao a clean sark to his back, or to 
 gang wi' his kist lu' o' halo clean claes like ither IV^lk V 
 
 " AVeel, gudeman, I'll no say anither word, I'm 
 willing to let him gang ;" said the mother, her face 
 and voice sadly at variance with her words. 
 
 " AVhere will ye get the siller, father ?" inquired 
 Sandy, who seemed now to entertain some hopes of 
 his really being able to realize what it seems had 
 been his desire since early boyhood. 
 
 "I'll get it where I put it, my man, in the bank," 
 was tlie father's reply. 
 
 " And what way did ye get it to put there ?" 
 
 " I won that, and as mickle mair ; forbye our bread 
 
 and claes since I came to this house, and if I be spared, 
 
 I'll win mair afore I dee, and I never stinted to gio 
 
 a share to them that was needfu', or yet to gie aii 
 
THK ORANI) (lORDONH. 
 
 99 
 
 offerin' to iho Lord, o' white 8ill«r, whan tho board 
 cam roim' in iho kirk on the Haf)hath." 
 
 Tho yonii*T man's faro Ix^trayed his feclingw, as a 
 mirror would have rcflflcted his faco, phamo for his 
 own part largely predominatin;:^, ho Hormod for a low 
 minntos unabh^ to speak, at laKi he «nid in an earnest 
 voice and determined manner, as if he knew it would 
 bo diflicult for those whom he addrcMsed, fo give 
 imidieit belief to his promises. 
 
 •* I'll iak your ailler, laihm*, and R'an;^ to America, 
 and I'll never war a shillin' on onything warso tha)i 
 my daily bread, till I jiay it back ugain, and ye need 
 not be feard, laither, but what I'll come l>ack again, 
 and whan I come, I'll hae a Sab))atii coat lor mysel' 
 and something to you forbye." 
 
 His poor mother's eyes were full of unbidden tears 
 which she tried in vain to screen from o})servation, 
 but finding that those tears she dried up were suc- 
 ceeded by others that were larger, and came quicker, 
 she hurried from the room, iollowed by Sandy. 
 
 I am not sure that I quite liked the arrangement 
 which had been so suddenly come to, yet I would 
 not for the world that tho old man should suspect 
 this ; so there was nothing for it but to submit wii'i 
 a good grace, in hopes that the father's confidence in 
 his son, was not misplaced, and I lifted up my soul 
 iu silent supplication to his Heavenly Father, and my 
 • own, that He would give giace to the poor drunkard, 
 that jti© might be stopped in his downward road, and 
 
 
 ]' 
 
 V 
 
 
 
100 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 niiiii^ 
 
 f I 
 
 enabled to keep the iiromise he had" made to his 
 sorrowing mother. 
 
 What a common grief; there is scarcely a family, 
 if its inner life were laid bare, in w^hich it does not 
 repeat itself, where some boy, the most generous, 
 loveable of the group, is not going along the same 
 downward path to ruin and death, to death by his 
 own hand, true, it may be only by the slow suicide 
 of drink, but no less surely by his own right hand, 
 there is no such terrible tragedy, no words so full of 
 soul-stirring pathos as that which tells to eye or ear, 
 of a great household, where one of its members, a 
 dearly loved son or brother, or sadder still, if possible, 
 a, father, or saddest phase of all, a mother, whom no 
 earthly i^ower can keep from treading day by day, 
 the sure path to ruin, death and hell. 
 
 " There has been so much false reasoning on both 
 sides of the subject, such a war of words, bigotry and 
 adjuration, that it is, more than all other questions, 
 worn out and distasteful, particularly among those 
 very people who will not merely for the slight cause 
 that it may be a stumbling-block to an erring or 
 weak brother, banish the wine-cup from their homes ; 
 bxit the numbers sent to death and destruction 
 become no less, because people of refinement and 
 position taboo the subject. Its fatal effects upon the 
 mental power and spiritual health of our land are no 
 less obvious and appalling. The evil is a physical 
 plain matter of fact, and must be grappled with in a 
 plain physical way. It has been the custom both in 
 
 m 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 101 
 
 and out of the pulpit, to represent intemperance as a 
 ' Temptation of the Devil,' to be met and resisted by 
 prayer and faith. The drunkard is simply a sinner, 
 he is entreated to repent by all the terrors of earthly 
 ruin, and the eternal death beyond the grave. His 
 miserable wife and starving children are hold up before 
 his conscience, which is invariably considered as 
 seared. There is much truth in this view of the case, 
 but it is not all the truth, we cannot afford to ignore 
 prayer and faith, they are the sword and shield which 
 our Blessed Lord has given to cut aw^ay evil and 
 guard us against it, but what would we think of a 
 man, who, having fallen into a deep well, prays to be 
 delivered therefrom, and then sits down calmly to 
 await for an angel to effect his deliverance ; is it not 
 more in accordance with true faith that while he 
 says in his soul, * Save me, oh my Father, and shew 
 me a way out of this living grave,' that his eye should 
 wander in search of some crevice in which to place 
 his foot, some stone jutting out from the black wall 
 he may catch hold of to aid him in his ascent to light 
 and liberty, or will he for a moment relax his efforts 
 until his foot is again on the green earth, and he is 
 once more a free man ? And so should it be with us 
 who are not yet, thank God, ' entangled in the same 
 yoke of bondage,' while we pray earnestly for such 
 men and women, feeling that to us the Lord may yet 
 say, ' This man shall perish in his iniquity, but his 
 blood w^ll I require at your hands.' It is time that 
 we looked at the other side of the question, and 
 through the poor drunkard's own eyes; wife nor 
 
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 102 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS, 
 
 children are usually neither do hungry, nor so heart- 
 broken as he is, cover it as he may by braggadocia 
 or otherwise ; he most surely realizes more clearly his 
 earthly ruin and eternal damnation, with more agony 
 of soul than the children whom he beggars, the wife 
 whom, peradventure, he sends to an early grave, or 
 the man of God who preaches to him ; yet he deliber- 
 ately walks down to Hell for whiskey, which in all 
 probability, has long ago ceased to yield him any 
 pleasure, further than dulling his sense of responsi- 
 bility for this world and the next ; whiskey has to him 
 become a i)hysical necessity — ' Drunkenness,' says one 
 of our great authorities on the subject, ' in eight cases 
 out of ten is either an hereditary or acquired disease 
 as much as consumption or small-pox,' let us treat it 
 as such, and betake ourselves to the use of physical 
 remedies. This fact is now understood by the medi- 
 cal world, the United States can boast of two or 
 three Asylums for inebriates, noted for the success 
 which has attended their efforts in a greater cause 
 than the abolition of slavery ; the poor drunkard is 
 enslaved, soul and body — and that for evermore, but 
 not until the theory on which this treatment is based, 
 is understood and acknowledged by the people, by 
 the parents or wives of drunkards ; not until then, 
 can any good be done to the millions who are writh- 
 ing in despair and dying in their sin, hurried into 
 unblest graves, by the terrible whiskey curse. 
 
 When the time comes that every mother, rich and 
 poor, will fully comprehend that her child may be 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 103 
 
 born with a thirst for strong drink, an inherited 
 disease, so affecting his whole system, that a craving 
 for stimulants is morbid, and once indulged in, most 
 certainly fatal, she will take the same care to guard 
 him against it, as she would if he inherited consump- 
 tion, and the children, male or female, will be safer 
 if they know that stimulants which may be (safely ?) 
 indulged in by others, are neither more nor less than 
 poison to them, body and soul. 
 
 Drunkards, with whom the disease is not hereditary, 
 tire nearly all sanguine genial men and women, for 
 whom mental excitement is a necessity, and whoso 
 •cure therefore lies in the healthy stimulant of constant 
 <imployment, which, by those who have made the 
 subject their life study, is considered the best counter- 
 irritant of the brain or emotions. 
 
 It is to be hoped the day is not far off when this 
 most widely spread and most lamentable of all 
 diseases, will be as thoroughly understood as others 
 less mortal, and the poor victim can turn to his phy- 
 sician for some means of cure instead of to a 
 drunkard's shameful death and dishonoured grave, 
 as his only chance of relief.'' 
 
 The old man accompanied me to the garden gate, 
 in silence, and as he took my offered hand in parting 
 said — " I doubt I have put a sair hank round your 
 neck. Miss St. Clare, when I offered Sandy the siller 
 to tak him to America, a poor foolish lad like him is 
 no just the one a lady would like to let the ship's 
 passengers see was ane o' her acquaintance." 
 
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 104 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 I answered honestly, " I do not say I would havei? 
 chosen Sandy for a companion, had the choice been 
 given me, although not from the cause you allude to,, 
 but the event seems to have been arranged by a 
 Higher power than either you or me. The whole 
 aifair was so suddenly determined upon, that even to 
 my half-doubting soul it appears like the work of 
 Him, without whom a sparrow cannot fall to the 
 ground, and as such we must take it to be until we 
 see the end. Perhaps taking Sandy away from com- 
 panions as foolish as himself, may break his evil habit, 
 and you and other godly men can plead his cause 
 with the Lord." 
 
 " Aye, praise be to His name, we can do that, and 
 as He did for His people of old, when He came from 
 Sinai and rose up from Seir, while from His right 
 hand went a fiery law for them, and they sat down 
 at Thy feet, so Thou art able yet to do for my poor 
 son, and to make him sit down at Thy feet — even. 
 Thy feet." As the old man spoke, he lifted his bonnet 
 from off his head, as if he realized the presence of 
 Him whose power he invoked, commencing by ans- 
 wering me unconsciously, his mind and speech 
 addressing the great All Father, his clear blue eye 
 upturned to the skies, seeming to pierce through 
 the blue depths to the great white throne where- 
 on the Ancient of days sat ; his long white hair 
 falling back from his broad forehead, and handsome, 
 features, on which the bright morning sun fell almost, 
 unbroken through the light leaves of the birch that: 
 
THE GRAND GOTIDONS. 
 
 105 
 
 twittered and trembled above the little gate he held 
 in one hand ; I felt as if the Holy Spirit was speaking 
 now by this old man, as surely as He did by him to^ 
 whom it was said, ' Draw not nigh hither,' and then 
 it was given me to believe that He in His working 
 and His power is the same yesterday, to-day and 
 forever. 
 
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 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " When we were gay gallants we rode at the ring, 
 And the young Earl of Murray he aye was made King." 
 
 T two o'clock on "Wednesday morning, Mr. 
 PL Morton, according to promise, came to accom- 
 '^■^ pany me to Glasgow, and see me on board the 
 steamship which w^as to bear me to my field of labor. 
 I went to Marion's bed-room to bid her good-bye, 
 but, to my surprise, she was not there, nor had her 
 bed been slept in, I came to the conclusion that she 
 must have gone to sx^end the night at her father's 
 cottage, so as to be wnth her brother, the few last 
 hours of his sojourii at home. I had a bunch of snow- 
 drops in my hand, which the French nurse brought 
 me the evening before, so placing one of these on her 
 l^illow, to speak for me, I departed. 
 
 Old Saunders Mitchell and his son were waiting 
 for us at the depot ; on our arrival, the old man inform- 
 ing us that his wdfe had. insisted upon his remaining 
 Avith Sandy until the ship sailed ; poor old man, his 
 usually cheerful face looked serious and sad, it was 
 too eA'ident that parting with his only son, under 
 «uch circumstances, was as the w^aters of Marah. 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 107 
 
 The morning was lovely, the bine grey sky 
 streaked on the verge of the horizon by hues of 
 crimson and gold. Mr. Morton and I had just seated 
 ourselves in the cars, and were trying to draw the 
 best amusement possible in such a place, by watching 
 those who were pressing on with busy feet, to get 
 possession of the best seats, when a handsome phaeton 
 drawn by a pair of beautiful greys, drove up to the 
 stand; I pointed them out to Mr. Morton, who imme- 
 diately said — 
 
 " Yes, beautiful indeed, they are the greys Lady 
 Gordon bought for Mrs. Percy on her marriage, I 
 should like to pat them for the sake of her who was 
 so fond and proud of them ; I was present when 
 Captain Percy told her they were sold, and can see 
 now the tears which filled her eyes, and can hear 
 the half-choking voice in which she said, ' Oh no, 
 Bertram, you surely could not have sold my beauti- 
 ful greys who are so gentle when I drive them, and 
 mamma's gift.' Although she deprecated the belief 
 in his having sold her pets, she knew, even at that 
 «arly day, it was too true. The gentleman who is 
 driving, Sir James St. Clare, bought them then, they 
 have been well cared for, they look as well as ever, 
 after six years driving, while their beautiful young 
 mistress, then so full of hope, lies in a strange grave, 
 the wild wintry winds as they rave o'er her head, 
 and the fierce, hot Canadian sun as it scorches and 
 withers the grass growing above her bright hair, 
 alike unheeded.'* 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 *' "What a strange craze it was his selling his wife*» 
 ponies; such beautiful cieatures." 
 
 " It was no craze ; Marion, when she spoke of it the 
 other day, only knew the fact of their being sold, but not 
 the motive which prompted its being done, or I should 
 rather say, the necessity there was that such should 
 be done ; they were sold to pay a gambling debt, a so 
 called debt of honor, incurred in one of the billiard 
 saloons of Edinburgh, and instead of his supplying 
 their place, it was Major Seaton who bought the 
 fawn-colored ponies, and afterwards when these 
 again went in the same way, he bought the black 
 horses that were let on hire to Captain Percy, to pre- 
 vent them from being sent on the same errand as their 
 predecessors. It was a thousand pities she did not 
 choose Cousin Hugh, as she called him, instead of the 
 unprincipled fellow whose bad conduct, no doubt, 
 sent her to an early grave." 
 
 " It would, indeed, seem like infatuation choosing 
 the mate she did, and refusing Major Seaton ; the one, 
 handsome, generous, brave, his praise in everyone's 
 mouth, the other undersized, bull-necked, with noth- 
 ing to recommend him, as far as I can learn, except a 
 talent for mimicry, a very doubtful good, I should 
 imagine in one, who, it seems, was far from an inde- 
 pendant gentleman." 
 
 "You haA'-e under, instead of over-drawn the 
 picture," replied my companion, in reply to the look 
 of interrogation with which I concluded my last 
 sentence. " Hugh Seaton has been from his boyhood 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 109 
 
 up, a pattern of all that is manly, noble and true ; 
 when we played ball, or ran races, Hugh was always 
 first to win, no matter how long the line or score, we 
 -called him long-legged Hu<^h, and at last refused to 
 allow him compete either at race or ball, and when 
 we began to put away boyish sports, and took to 
 riding the ring, we never disagreed once as to who 
 would lead, Hugh was always made King, and to 
 this day, from Land's End to John o'Groat's, none 
 bestrides his steed more gracefully, and large man as 
 he is, few will outstrip him in swiftness ; this is, of 
 •course, in part owing to the horse he rides, but we all 
 acknowledge the force of the old adage, a bad rider 
 never had a good steed; and that he can wield his sword 
 so that the old manly Seatons never did better, witness 
 the Victoria cross and the row of medals hanging 
 from their scarlet and blue ribbons which grace his 
 -coat at a military dinner, w^ell won on the battle 
 fields of burning India and frozen Russia ; and more 
 than all, he is the poor man's friend in word and 
 deed ; he, as heir to Thurlow, has a handsome income 
 derived from his father's estates ; a few years since, 
 the leases on Thurlow were run out ; owing to the 
 two previous seasons having been unprecedentedly 
 wet, the tenantry were grumbling terribly, and came 
 in a body to request a reduction of their rents, his 
 father refused to accede to their demands, saying it 
 was impossible, but noble Hugh gave up every shil- 
 ling of his income, that it might go to reduce the 
 rents, and so, when he becomes laird, he will be a 
 poorer man by at least a thousand pounds a year, than 
 
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 THE GRAND OOHDONB. 
 
 * " 
 
 his father, or his father's father, but I doubt, much 
 honored as the Soatons of Thurlow have been by rich 
 and poor, in their day and pfoneration, if any of them 
 have reached the height from which Hugh looks, 
 down."^ 
 
 I snt silently thinking over poor Mrs. Percy's 
 niauvaise desfin^e for several minutes, and then said 
 almost mechanically, as we sometimes do, repeating 
 somo stereotyped idea, because we fancy wo are 
 expected to speak. 
 
 " I hope Major Seaton will find some one else ta 
 love, who will be worthy of him, and can return his 
 love." • 
 
 " As to his finding one to love him, and that for 
 himself, not his broad acres, I opine, this would not. 
 be difficult, nor need he go far to seek such an one, 
 but unless he himself changes in a more than ordin- 
 ary degree, it is very unlikely that he will ever feel 
 sufficient interest in another woman, to desire that 
 she should be his wife. Yesterday evening, as he 
 and I were walking along Prince street, we met two 
 very beautiful girls whom we both know and esteem 
 highly ; the ladies stopped and spoke to us for a few 
 minutes ; when they passed, I said half in joke, ' were 
 I a rich fellow like you, I would try to make an 
 
 impression on Miss ,' naming the elder of the 
 
 two. ' Oh Robert !' said he, ' how little w^e know 
 what passes in the inmost heart of our most intimate 
 friend, you and I see each other almost daily, we 
 have been true and unreserved friends from our boy 
 
THE ORAND GORDONS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 hood, and yet you are ipiorant of the foolinjy most 
 alivo in my soul ; I had rather IcIks the green turt" on 
 Tiny Gordon's grave than press my Hps to the cheek 
 of the fairest face in Edinburgh.' After a moment's 
 pause, he added. * And I will do so ere long; as 
 soon as I can get leave of absence, I will go to 
 Canada.' " 
 
 
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 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 V. 
 
 M' 
 
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 1 'I 
 
 i ' I 
 
 THE VOYAGE. 
 
 ** Onward she glides amid ripple and spray, 
 Over the waters, away, and away." 
 
 'HAT a beautiful thing is a ship," I mentally 
 exclaimed as I looked from the spacious 
 deck up to the bright orderly rigging with 
 its tall strong masts seeming endowed with life, as 
 loosened from her moorings the ship slowly moved 
 from the shore. A childlike voice calling out in 
 bitter accents, ' mamma, mamma, the bridge is broke,* 
 attracted my attention from gazing upwards, to the 
 scene around me. From the shii> I looked to the 
 shore, and the first object that met my sight was 
 Saunders Mitchell's thin gray hair floating back from 
 his face as he waved his hat in a last adieu to the son 
 his sad face told but too plainly he thought he was 
 partmg with forever ; we were still so near the shore 
 that I could easily see the distressed brow and the 
 pale lips rigidly compressed as if he feared his 
 heart would fail, and thus betray his forebodings, his 
 woe and weariness, to the strangers around him. The 
 
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THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 113 
 
 direction in which his face was turned at once indi- 
 cated to me the place which Sandy occupied on the 
 lower deck. I was painfully alive to the construc- 
 tion that might be put upon my conduct by entire 
 strangers as I made my way towards young Mitchell, 
 but I remembered the sacred promise I had made to 
 the old man, and I knew how every trifling incident 
 of the few minutes now passing would haunt his 
 waking and sleeping vision lor weeks <o come, so 
 banishing the lookers on from my thoughts, I sought 
 the place where the young man stood. On reaching 
 Sandy, I requested him to wave his hat in token of 
 good bye both for himself and me to the old man on 
 shore ; he obeyed with an alacrity which surprised 
 me, shouting out good bye — good bye — twice or 
 thrice, and waving his hat long after it was impossible 
 to distinguish one face from another in the sea of 
 heads which lined the shore. 
 
 Sandy's feelings were evidently as strong as his 
 father's, and had been doubtless subdued and pent 
 up to the last moment, and when the shore we left 
 became but a dull and indistinct outline in the dis- 
 tance, he betook himself alone to a distant part of the 
 vessel. 
 
 The first few days of our voyage we had head 
 
 winds and at intervals drizzling rain, so that I saw 
 
 little or nothing of my fellow cabin passengers ; I felt 
 
 no sickness myself and consequently kept on deck 
 
 wrapped in my waterproof as often and as long as 
 
 the weather would permit. Among several lady 
 
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 114 
 
 THE QRAND GORDONS. 
 
 passengers I knew there was one who had two oir 
 three little children ; there seemed to be quite ai 
 number of gentlemen on board, among whom were- 
 two clergymen, one a young Presbyterian minister 
 going out to a charge in Canada, the other an Episco- 
 palian clergyman settled in Canada who had been 
 making a tour through Britain, France and G-ermany. 
 The latter was a tall gentlemanly old man, handsome 
 in spite of old age and extreme thinness almost ap- 
 proaching to attenuation, during those first few day s^ 
 while no other lady was on deck, he came frequently 
 and sat by me conversing freely on such topics as he 
 fancied might be interesting ; he spoke of the bright 
 blue sky and warm summer in Canada rivaling that of 
 Italy, said he knew Montreal well and told me it was; 
 a city of churches and convents, from its situation one- 
 of the most beautiful of modern cities, being built on 
 the slope of a mountain at the base of which swept one 
 of the largest rivers in the world, prophesying that 
 after having spent two or three years there, which he 
 imagined I intended doing, I would be as unwilling 
 as himself to return to Britain, he himself was a. 
 Briton, yet not to be made a Bishop would he 
 consent to Hve always under the cloudy skies and on 
 the damp earth of his native land. 
 
 I went several times a day to talk to Sandy, 
 poor lad, he was sick, and seemed very miserable,, 
 and I am sure felt then, sincere repentance for the 
 foolish, reckless life which made him an exile, sick and' 
 sad, without the help of the kind hand that had 
 mmistered to him from infancy upwards. 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 115 
 
 
 The only others of the steerage passengers whom I 
 saw, or at least noticed in those few cold rainy days, 
 •was a tall, thin elderly woman dressed in gray, 
 almost black wincey, and the peculiar cap with its 
 band of black ribbon, worn by the wives of small 
 farmers or rather crofters in the Highlandii ; she had 
 two children with her, evidently her grand children, 
 the boy, the youngest of the two, she constantly 
 carried iu her arms, although he seemed to have 
 reached his sixth or seventh year. She would bring 
 these two children on deck, at least every hour, for 
 a few minutes, and then descend again to the steer- 
 age. As a refuge from the monotony under such 
 circumstances I used to watch for her appearance, and 
 talk a few words to her, making inquiry how her sick 
 grand children were getting on, etcetera. The first 
 time she spoke, I was surprised to find that her voice 
 was a sweet toned English one, and despite her dress 
 and appearance, which were evidently Highland 
 Scotch, not one word with a gaelic accent fell from 
 her lips. The third day, the skies cleared, and we 
 were sailing under a balmy soft wind, yet notwith- 
 standing, the old woman and her grand children did 
 not appear on deck, even when the sun was high in 
 the Heavens. I now felt so much interested in them, 
 that with the Captain's permission, I went to the 
 steerage to find out what was the matter. The little 
 boy was very ill, had been so from the evening previ- 
 ous, and lay gasping for breath, his features seenwngly 
 sharpening fast into death, the poor woman using 
 every persuasion to induce the little suffering thing 
 
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 116 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 to taste some gruel which was evidently to him very 
 nauseous, he turning away his little pale face, as much 
 as his weakness would allow. ' Alas !' said his 
 grandmother, ' he has been so much accustomed to 
 good milk and fresh air out on the hills, where I took 
 him from, that he will die for want of both in this 
 terrible place, and she will soon follow,' she added, 
 with a look and accent of utter despair, as she pointed 
 to the little girl who sat on the floor, her head lean- 
 ing on the foot of the bed where her brother lay, her 
 eyes closed, but not in sleep, her lips parched, and 
 partly open. ' I kept them out in the fresh air,' said 
 the grandmother, ' as long as I could, but now Jemmy 
 is too sick to be moved, and I'm sore afraid they'll 
 both go the same way.' " 
 
 I had been provided by Mr. Morton's care, with 
 the best state-room on the vessel, one containing two 
 beds and a sofa ; when I saw w^hat was provided for 
 me, on coming on board, I remonstrated at the extra- 
 vagance of giving me so much waste room, but Mr. 
 Morton laughed away what he called my fit of petty 
 saving, and during the last three days, I had often 
 felt very pleased that I was not subjected to the 
 annoyance of having a sick companion in such close 
 proximity, as a sharer of your room on board ship, 
 necessarily entails. How deeply thankful I felt now 
 for that empty bed and sofa, and I hurried to the 
 Captain to request his permission to have the woman 
 ;^7id her grand-children removed from the stifling 
 t.cosphere of the steerage to the fresh sea breeze 
 
 i 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 117 
 
 which came careering so pleasantly from the little 
 window in my state-room. 
 
 " You are very kind, Miss," replied the Captain, 
 *• and, perhaps this may save the little fellow ; there 
 is little else the matter with him than sea sickness, 
 aggravated, no doubt, by the change of food." 
 
 The Captain, kind, good man, went himself and 
 superintended the removal of the children, he, 
 carrying one, while the grandmother carried the 
 other. Everything was so spotlessly neat and clean 
 around those children, the most delicate lady in the 
 land need not have feared coming in contact with 
 them ; were it not so, I am afraid my philanthropy 
 would not have gone the length of sharing my state- 
 room with them. It was well however I was enabled 
 to do so ; the little boy continued so poorly, that 
 until the last two days of our voyage he was unable 
 to walk and then very feebly, his grandmother told 
 me that soon after coming on board he sickened, and 
 that though not in the usually troublesome way, was 
 so weak as to be unable either to walk or eat. The 
 little girl however soon rallied, and the day after 
 her removal to my state-room, was running merrily. 
 around the deck. The grandmother I found was a 
 woman of more than usual intelligence, one who had 
 passed through the fiery furnace of affliction, but 
 who had evidently in all her tribulation trusted in 
 the Lord who bought her. 
 
 When we had been nearly eight days at sea, and 
 tlie little boy was getting to look as if he had got a 
 
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 118 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 fresh lease of life, I remarked to the grandmother 
 the pretty red tinge that embellished the cheek of 
 both boy and girl as they lay side by side in their 
 rosy sleep, saying : " Your grandchildren are indeed 
 very beautiful." 
 
 *' They are not my grandchildren," replied the old 
 woman, " They are neither kith nor kin of mine." 
 
 " And why then do they call you granny ?" I 
 inquired. 
 
 " Because the Lord gave them to me," replied the 
 old woman. " And they are mine just as much as if 
 I had borne them. I would not take the trouble to 
 tell this to every one, but your kindness gives you a 
 right to know the truth, and I would not even in this 
 small matter, although it does not concern you ( and 
 likely you care little about it), be a deceiver. The 
 children themselves think I am their grandmother, 
 and will always do so until the Lord calls me to my 
 own. If you have time and patience to listen, I will 
 tell you how I got these children some time before 
 w^e leave the ship ?" 
 
 My curiosity was excited, I fancied some romantic 
 tale was about to be disclosed, that the little ones 
 with their soft brown eyes and rich golden hair 
 which flowed in long wavy tresses past their shoulders, 
 were perhaps of gentle blood, and that the old 
 woman who cared so assiduously for them was 
 perhaps the nurse of their mother or some other 
 dependant of their family, although truth to tell the 
 poorly clad woman before me had little of the badge 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 IID 
 
 of Kervitude upon her, her manner, her speech, her 
 Tery step had the freedom of one who had never 
 served, but from affection. I replied at once. 
 
 "I should very much like to know your own history, 
 vas well as that part of it which brings in the two 
 children. Your English voice struck me as being so 
 much at variance with your Highland attire, that 
 from the first time I spoke to you, I had a desire to 
 hear the reason for this seeming paradox, and if you 
 :are inclined to tell me now, I will be a patient 
 listener." 
 
 The old woman did not answer me for a few 
 minutes, but sat with hands crossed on her lap, the 
 almost black color of her wincey gown forming a 
 strong contrast to the pure white muslin cap, the 
 -crimped borders of which closely covered her gray 
 hair. As I looked at her and the beautiful children 
 lying in their quiet sleep, I could not help thinking 
 what a good subject for an artist's pencil, was before 
 me. The old woman in the quiet beauty of her old 
 age, perhaps the object of most interest in the group. 
 
 " You already know that I left my quiet English 
 liome to follow a Scottish soldier husband, who con- 
 tinued a lover until I laid him in his grave. His 
 Tegiment was ordered from Malta to Gribraltar, and 
 from thence again to India ; at that time, soldiers 
 v^'^ore nearly the same clothing beneath the hot sun 
 of India, as they did in Britain, and in consequence 
 of this, my husband fell sick; fortunately, we had 
 iljetween us. gained enough money to buy his dis- 
 
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 120 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 charge, and we were fortunate enough to obtaui a 
 free passage, my husband assuming the duties of a 
 gentleman's servant, and I by waiting on the same 
 gentleman's wife, although, at the time, I had four 
 children of my own to care for; I was not afraid 
 to undertake this, I knew that I would not be sea 
 sick, and the Lord in whom I placed my faith, and 
 whom my Scottish husband had taught me to worship, 
 gave me a kind and considerate mistress, and enabled 
 me to do my duty both to her and also to my own 
 little ones. 
 
 "In due time, we arrived at the shores of the 
 Beauly firth, at a place called the Dream, and a 
 beautiful dream it was, as beautiful as clear rushing"^ 
 river, rocky mountainous heights, crowned to their 
 very top by larch and pine could make it, while from 
 the door of the little croft house where we made our 
 home, we could see the pretty village of Beauly 
 stretched out amid fields of green grass and waving 
 corn, while further on, where the salt waters of the 
 Beauly firth coming up towards us, or running, 
 down with white waves to the great rocks of 
 Cromarty, as the tide God gave to the sea when He 
 set it the bounds it cannot pass, rose and fell. 1 had 
 a happy home, with my husband and four children 
 there, for a few years, and then G-od took him for 
 whose sake I had left my own sunny Devonshire^ 
 It was a great grief, but like all griefs, small and 
 great, the sting passed away, perhaps the sooner that 
 I had to work hard for the support of my children ; 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 121 
 
 God blessed me in my work, and, but that they had 
 no father's knee to climb, and no father's tongue to 
 counsel vhe lads as they grew up to manhood, they 
 had no other loss." 
 
 "My eldest son had the passion for wandering, which 
 marked his father, and as soon as his brother could 
 help me with the farm, he went to Canada, where ho 
 has been for twenty years. Ten years ago, my only 
 daughter married, and her husband and my second 
 son resolved to go and seek their fortune where their 
 elder brother had thriven so well. I would have 
 most likely gone with them at the time, for parting 
 with my children, was as if a knife was put into my 
 heart, but my youngest son was 'a delicate lad from 
 his youth, and the doctor assured me that he would 
 never cross the ocean alive , so Jemmy and I settled 
 down together in the old home where there used to be 
 so much mirth ; I used to complain sadly of the noise 
 they all made when they came home in the evening 
 from school or work There was too little noise now, 
 and we felt terribly lonely at first ; we missed Jean» 
 nie's ballad songs, and Willie's funny tricks that 
 used often to annoy in the old days, and sometimes 
 make me scold, would have been welcome then ; how- 
 ever, it was a happy little home, and we had constant 
 letters from Canada, telling of their welfare ; and 
 promising that some day they w^ould come and see 
 us. At one time, a gentleman from Inverness, settled 
 in Canada, came to see us, at the request of my 
 daughter, and brought a whole nest of baskets made 
 
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122 
 
 THE GRAND (5ORD0NS. 
 
 H: 
 
 
 by the Indians of America, pretty, bright looking" 
 things, but very different from the beautiful work 
 made by the natives of the East Indies, some of which 
 I had brought home with me." 
 
 Stopping for a moment, she looked up in my face, 
 saying, " I am surely wearying you ; it is always so ; 
 when I begin to speak or think of the old home and 
 my children, and instead of telling you about these 
 little ones whom you have seen, and been so kind to, 
 I have been tiring your patience by telling you oi 
 people you neither know nor care about." 
 
 " On the contrary," replied I, *' you interest me very 
 much : I should like to know what vou are willinsr 
 to tell me of your Highland home, previous to your 
 adoption (if I may cull it so,) of those pretty children 
 who now so fondly call you granny." 
 
 " I have little more to tell ; soon after the others 
 went. Jemmy from being a w^eak lad became an 
 ailing one, and for the last six years of his life, he 
 was only able to walk about the doors with the aid 
 of a crutch. I had now to work very hard to keep 
 Jemmy and myself in bread and the few other neces- 
 saries we needed, although the cows never wanted 
 the old care they were accustomed to, something 
 seemed to have gone wrong among them : every year, 
 one, and sometimes more died, and oiui year what 
 -we call a spate, sent down several streams from the 
 mountain into the little burn that ran past our cottage, 
 until it overflowed its banks, so that one morning I 
 found it had come so near our cottage as to sweep 
 
THE GRAND OORDON8, 
 
 123 
 
 away the hen house and all its treasured inmates. 
 Although this was a groat loss to me, I regretted it 
 perhaps less than anything else that befel me ; I felt 
 -so thankful that the winters took the direction of the 
 barns and not of our house." 
 
 " Not long after this, I was called to part with a 
 "dear one, that neither time nor money could replace. 
 I laid Jemmy in the grave-yard at the Dream, beside 
 his father, and thanked God, he never wanted meal 
 nor milk, nor aught else until the day He took him. 
 After Jemmy's death, all seemed to go wrong, until 
 at last I was left with one cow and a few hens in a 
 small barn attached to the house, the larger bam that 
 used to be well filled, having fallen into disrepair, 
 which I without money, or a man about the house, 
 had no means of helping, and yet although this 
 seemed a cross at the time, it was God's woik that I 
 and those two children should be saved from much 
 fiufTering, perhaps from a bitter death. 
 
 " A summer and winter had passed away, and Jem- 
 my's grave waa as bright with gowans as his father's, 
 the second summer and autumn were both gone in 
 weariness and loneliness, and except on the sabbath 
 when I went into the town as we called it to church, 
 I seldom saw a human face from month's end to 
 month's end. My nearest neighbours were four 
 miles off and they only spoke their native gaelic, a 
 language, notwithstanding all my efforts, I had never 
 been able to acquire, indeed the only one whom I 
 oould converse freely with was a widow w^oman like 
 
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 124 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 myself, named Fraser, who lived about six miles 
 further ; ip the glen and who once in two months or 
 the like used to spend an hour or two, or perhaps 
 pass the night with me as she went into the village 
 to see a widowed daughter, who supported herself 
 and children by her needle, and was very thankful 
 when her mother came with perhaps a little meal or 
 stockings for the children. She was poorer even 
 than myself, and besides having the pleasure of her 
 company, I was glad to extend to her a hospitality I 
 had been accustomed to offer freely to others in my 
 more prosperous days." . 
 
 *' It w^as the dreary month of November, and there 
 had been a drizzling rain for nearly ten days befbre, 
 wuth only a glint of sunsliine for a few hours occa- 
 sionally in the forenoon. I had been saving my eggs 
 that I might go to Beauly to sell them and buy 
 myself some oatmeal, and I had put my cloak on for 
 this purpose, when to my surj^rise a brother of my 
 husband's whom I had not seen since the day of 
 Jemmy's funeral, and who was a well to do farmer 
 twenty miles beyond the Dream, came up to the 
 house with his horse and cart, driving a flock of sheep 
 before him. He was a handsome tall man, as were 
 all his race whom I had known, he greeted me in 
 the kind hearty xnanner, and looked out of the same 
 bright eyes as his soldier brother did forty years 
 before." 
 
 " How are you, gudewife," said he, " I have come 
 to take pot luck with you the day and rest my sheep." 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 125 
 
 " I was very gl^d to see him; it was quite an event 
 in my lonely life, but my poverty was sueh that I 
 scarcely knew what to give him, with the exception 
 of the eggs that were packed up to be taken to 
 Beauly, and a handful of meal certainly not enough 
 to make one cake. It is true, I had a little tea and 
 sugar, but a hearty man like my brother-in-law needed 
 something to eat, and I dare say my embarrassed look 
 as I welcomed him into the house, told him some of 
 what was passing in my mind, and what I would 
 gladly have hidden. He shook my hand in his hearty 
 way, and then said hurriedly as if he knew he was 
 going to impart welcome tidings : " 
 
 " I brought our meal from the mill yesterday, and 
 I have brought a lock of it here for yOu, and our 
 gudewife would nae be behind hand wi' yoursel', so 
 «he has seiit you a little crock of butter and a bit 
 kebbuck o' cheese." So he brought me in a whole 
 boll of meal, more than had been in my house for 
 two years, a nice little jar of butter and a cheese, 
 saying, as he put down the heavy weight of meal 
 from his shoulders, " Eppie bade me tell you that our 
 bairns are wearing the stockiiigs /et, you made for 
 them last year." 
 
 " He was a good man and r. kind, and would have 
 me think that those presents were brought as a 
 return for a few pairs of so3 rs I had made for his 
 children, instead of being brought as a help to me 
 before the winter came on, when he heard, as he must 
 have done, of my poverty. 1 very soon mado him a 
 
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 126 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 ■ 
 
 good breakfast, and shook his wet shepherd's plaid^ 
 and dried it by the fire. After a rest of several hourst^ 
 he went to put his sheep again in marching order, as 
 we used to call it in the old soldiering time, and 
 called out to me that an accident had happened, an 
 accident indeed ! one of the largest and finest oi his 
 wethers, had broken his right fore leg. This was »> 
 great loss to the poor man, there was no help for it, 
 the sheep must be killed. As some little consolation 
 to him, I bade him leave the skin with me and i 
 would spin and weave the wool which was very hne 
 and beautiful, into stockings for his children during 
 the long winter days coming on." 
 
 ** I will do that," said he, " and the mutton too." 
 I resisted this with all my might ; it was loss enough to 
 the poor man, the price he would have received from 
 the south country drover who was to buy his sheep 
 at Inverness, without giving away the mutton in 
 this way. I suggested his selling it to a butcher in 
 Bcauly or Inverness. 
 
 " No, no," said he, I never sold a sheep to a butcher 
 and I never will ; all the sheep I kill are eat by our 
 ain folk, and you are near as sib to me as they are." 
 
 " Killing and skinning the sheep and hanging it in 
 the barn, so that I might easily cut it up myselfr 
 occupied so much time that it was getting towards 
 evening before he departed ; — the sky was dark and 
 lowering and looking towards the hills, my brother- 
 in-law said — 
 
 " You must make all as safe as you can the night — 
 
 *L.. 
 
( fj,» 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 127 
 
 :< 
 
 it looks to me as if there would be another spate^ 
 and I would not wonder but it would be down on 
 you before the morning." 
 
 "It was now too late for me to walk to Beauly 
 ■'"'ith any hope of returning the same night, so I laid by 
 my eggs in the basket as they were, and busied my- 
 self in packing my meal into the barrel. The quan- 
 tity of provisions in my house was painful to me rather 
 than '^♦^herwise ; in bygone years, when such stores 
 v:rt\ e c 'U: mon with me, there were dear mouths to feed» 
 tLo) v bj were far from me now across the Atlantic, 
 and alas ! alas ! ! the one who clung by me to the last, 
 needed neither meat, nor drink nor shelter. I had not 
 been able tiien to see clearly through faith in His name, 
 what the Blessed Lord has given me to know, and 
 rest in with perfect security now ; that ' lie came that 
 we might have life and have it more abundantly,' and 
 so surely as He rose from the dead and His disciples 
 knew His face and heard His voice, so surely shall I 
 see and knov/ my son and touch his hand, and hear 
 his voice v. ;♦ u I'.ie days of my pilgrimage are over.'' 
 
 " It w ..^ (^r oerie lime, that dull November gloam- 
 ing wiLu tjA Uizzling rain pattering on the little 
 wine jw, ana th« wind in fitful gusts coming down 
 the chimney and scattering the peat ashes around the 
 he>?rth. The house was full of shadows, and my 
 own heart so oppressed and weary that I wished 
 God would let me lay my head down beside Jemmy 
 in the grav^-yard at the Dream ; and I repented me 
 then bo bitterly fhat I had paid no heed to the many 
 
 i 1 
 
mw 
 
 128 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 J! iit; 
 
 '4. 
 
 letters which came to me during the past twenty- 
 months from Canada, intreating me to go to my chil- 
 dren. I went towards the window, and opening the 
 large Bible which lay there, came upon the book of 
 J ob, and I read — ' The Lord gave and the Lord hath 
 taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord.' I felt 
 rebuked ; my children, though far from me, were still 
 in the land of the living ; my own body was whole 
 and free from disease anri more provision in my house 
 than had been for man) x long day. Shutting the 
 Bible, I said to myself, I v ; ;o down as far as the 
 cross roads, there may be somu oiie wandering on the 
 hills to-night who wants food and shelter. I have 
 both to give, and the walk in the open air will do me 
 more good than the wetting can do me harm. As I 
 came out to the door, I saw that the burn had indeed 
 risen considerably since my brother's departure, and 
 I drew my cloak over my head to guard me from the 
 drizzling rain. It was Grod w^ho sent me, and instead 
 of going to the cross roads, I took the footpath that 
 led through the woods down to Beauly, I seemed to 
 be impelled by some inner feeling, and I made 
 up my mind to go to a stile which was placed across 
 the foot-path about two miles from Beauly to prevent 
 horses and carts entering the wood ; there were steps 
 on each side, so that foot passengers might pass, the 
 wall itself being nearly as high as an ordinary sized 
 man's shoulder. As I went on, the twilight was 
 darkening in its gloom and I asked myself once or 
 twice if I was crazy to be going aimlessly so far from 
 home on such a cold rainy night. Still the feeling 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 120 
 
 ^which impelled me away from my cheerless home 
 and on towards the white steps, as we called them, 
 was stronger than any discomfort I felt from the" cold, 
 the approaching darkness and the rain. As I came close 
 np to the white steps, I fancied I heard little voices, 
 hence as I came nearer I n^ade my footsteps as light 
 as possible, and on coming close to the wall, I was 
 well aware that it was no mistake, and that I did 
 indeed, hear the sound of children's voices c^ose to 
 me ; I got up on the two first steps, and leaning over, 
 saw at the corner formed by the steps just under my 
 eyes, what appeared to be a large dark bundle, at 
 same time, hearing a little silvery voice, saying, " Put 
 your feet up across my legs, Jemmy, we'll be nice 
 here, until the light comes again, and then we'll not 
 be long going to granny's." A younger voice replied, 
 " But I'm real cold with the wet, and I dinna like to be 
 out in the dark." I saw in a moment why I had 
 been sent, and giving a slight cough, so as to warn 
 the children, stejiped up to the stile. In a moment, 
 the bundle resolved itself into a little boy and girl, 
 who at once got up, and running a little way from 
 the wall, stood looking at me as I descended the steps, 
 both at once calling out — 
 
 " Its granny." 
 
 " Its just granny, my bairns," said I, glad to see they 
 were not afraid of me ; " Where did you come from, 
 and what brought you out this dark, wet night?" 
 
 " Mammy is dead," said the little girl, who was the 
 older of the two, and apparently about six years of 
 
 IS * 
 
 \ 
 
 n t 
 
mfr 
 
 130 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 iHhl 
 
 i ,ii 
 
 fif' 
 
 age, " and the men put her in a box and took her 
 away the day, and we heard them saying bol'ore they 
 took her away, that they would bring us to Inver- 
 ness, so we took a piece of bread out of the press, and 
 came away to you, granny, but it was such a long- 
 road, and Jemmy's foot was so sore, we had to sit 
 doAvn here to rest, and when it grew dark, we were 
 I'eart to go through the wood." 
 
 " Who told you we w^ere here V said the little boy 
 looking up in my lace. 
 
 " God, my child," said I, " sent me for you to bring 
 you home." 
 
 " Was'nt that good of Ilim ?" said the little boy. 
 " Mammy said that G < (\. wr ijd take care of us, but 
 sh'.^ did'nt say lie would send you for us, granny." 
 
 " Poor mother, it would have been hard for her to 
 say so ; I knew well who the children were ; they 
 were widow Fraser's grandchildren, their poor sickly 
 mother, as well as the old grandmother, was now 
 dead, and I praised the Lord for sending them to me 
 in my loneliness." 
 
 " On descending the other side of the steps, and 
 coming close to the children, I found that the little 
 girl had taken otF her petticoat, as she said, to cover 
 their he'ads and to keep them from the rain, poor little 
 thing, doing her best to make a shelter out on the 
 dark hills, so that with the wall behind, and a cover- 
 ing over their heads, when they shut their eyes, they 
 might try to fancy themselves safe from the darkness,, 
 that thing so dreaded by all children, and which she 
 
THE OllAND OORDONS. 
 
 131 
 
 knew so surely was last coming on. I lifted the 
 little boy in my arms, and taking ti-e girl by the 
 hand, brought them to the other aide of the steps, 
 but I had not gone a hundred yards on the wood- 
 land path when I found that the little girl was 
 as unable to walk as the boy, so I tied her fast 
 on my back, with my cloak, and with the other in my 
 arms, I proceeded on my way, lifting up my soul 
 to God in prayer, as I went, that lie would give me 
 these children in place of ray poor Jemmy whom He 
 had taken to the better land." 
 
 " I had about four miles to walk ere I would reach 
 my home, and although it was yet early in the even- 
 ing, the sky, by reason of the rain, was becoming 
 very dark ; however, there was no reason to fear, the 
 road was a narrow and clear path, and led straight 
 to a little bridge which crossed the burn, scarcely an 
 acre from my own door. The darkness would not 
 be so intense, even at midnight, that I could not iind 
 the way I had trod so many long years ; on a broad 
 moorland I might have wandered from the path, but 
 in the wood there was no danger, the trees them- 
 selves would hdve kept me from doing so." 
 
 " I was not very strong then ; I had wasted my 
 strength in weeping and fasting ; I had no heart to 
 eat when there was no one to eat with me — a little 
 porridge or tea, morning and night, was all I ever 
 took since my son's death — so you may believe at my 
 age my strength was not a great deal, but I never 
 felt the burden of the children too much, or wished 
 
 1 HnB 
 
 HI 
 
 ^M '^1 
 
 ■ 1! 
 
 IB ^ ^1 
 
 i 
 
<:.^ tyv 
 
 nil 
 
 !MI 
 
 Ih! I ' i' 
 
 l! 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 132 
 
 THE GRAND OORDONF*. 
 
 to rest all the way. "When I had c^onc ahout a mile, 
 I spoke to one and then the other, bvit received no 
 reply ; the little things were fast asleep ; I stopped, 
 with a beating heart, half afraid that death had 
 snatched them ])oth from my grasp. The swinging 
 motion caused by my walking having ceased, the 
 children awoke, and both called out at once ' granny.* 
 The dear little things, I was better pleased to hear 
 that word than anything I had heard for many a day." 
 
 " It was dark enough before we came to the burn 
 side, and when we did, I could see, dark as it was, 
 that it was flooded from bank to brae, the bridge 
 made of three planks resting on the banks was 
 covered by the water, so that my feet splashed into 
 it at every step I took, but thank God, I got sal(*ly 
 over with my precious burden, and when they were 
 in the house, and beside a good lire, and their wet 
 clothes changed for some old things that had been 
 by for many a day, they ate a hearty supper, and 
 chatted merrily, making the old house look some- 
 thing like what it did twenty years before." 
 
 " In the morning, my lirst thought was to go to 
 the door and see w^hat like the burn was ; it was now 
 a great drumlie water, dashing past the house and 
 over the fields round about, carrying trees and planks 
 and great bundles of straw down with it ; the ruins 
 of our big barn were all gone, and the place where 
 it stood covered with water, the bridge nowhere to 
 be seen ; the place where stood our own house and 
 little barn was the only dry spot in sight, and the 
 
 Iha( 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 133 
 
 rain fallinuf as il' Iho water floods of Heaven were 
 opened. I shut the door on the cold wind and rain; 
 it was a dreary November day for many a one in 
 Scothmd ; I knew in part, even then, the desolation 
 it would cause in many a house in the f?len, and as I 
 gazed on the clothes of the children, which I had i^ut 
 to dry on chairs opposite the lire the evening before, I 
 raised up my soul in praise to God for having sent me 
 out on that eerie walk the evening before, so that I 
 might be the means in Ilis hands of saving these 
 little innocents from a miserable death; had they sur- 
 vived the cold and wind of the night, crouching as 
 they were at the. cross steps, it would now be impos- 
 sible for them to ri'ach a human habitation. The 
 same burn that was now speeding furiously towards 
 the sea, was crossed by a little bridge, similar to the 
 one that had been swept away nearly oi)posite my 
 cottage, the second bridge lying nearly half a mile 
 nearer the town than the cross steps, the poor little 
 things would have been hemmed in on all sides by a 
 waste of waters. Verily, the Lord is a rich provider, 
 lie not only saved the children alive, but He sent 
 more meal and meat to my house, to feed them, than 
 I had had in it all at once for two years back." 
 
 " "When the children were up and dressed, the little 
 girl asked me, as she had done the previous evening, 
 if they would kneel down at my knee and say their 
 prayers to God, and then they knelt down as they 
 before had done, and first little Annie and then her 
 brother repeated ' Our Father which art in Heaven,' 
 
:P;.' HM 
 
 »! I™ I 
 
 urn 
 
 I 
 
 
 134 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 each waiting with clasped hands and bowed down 
 head, until the other had finished, and then both 
 together repeated the beautiful hymn : ' My G-od who 
 makes the Sun to know his proi>er hour to rise,' as 
 they had said the night before ; 
 
 ' Now I lay me down to sleep, 
 I pray the Lord my soul to keep.'" 
 
 " It was easily seen the children had had a pray- 
 ing mother, and her faith and prayers were round 
 about them when her body was lying in the church- 
 yard. While they were eating their breakfast, I 
 began to question them as to how they got along the 
 two weary miles from Beauly to the cross steps, and 
 if they were not hungry." 
 
 " We were not tired, said Annie in reply to my 
 questions, " until the rain came on, and we were not 
 hungry, for we had plenty of bread that I tied in my 
 pinafore, but when the rain began. Jemmy was cold 
 and wanted to go back to the house again, but I 
 minded him on what mammy said to us every day, 
 that if we prayed to ' Our Father which art in Heaven,' 
 He would take care of us and bring us to our granny ; 
 and then we knelt down and said 'Our Father,' and 
 after that Jemmy was not so tired, and did not cry 
 again until we came to the side of the dyke, and it 
 was so dark, we were afraid to go farther ; we knelt 
 down at the dyke and said * Our Father ' twice over 
 again, and after that I took oflF my petticoat and made 
 a little housie for us at the side of the dyke. I was 
 sure God would send you for us, but it was very cold. 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 135 
 
 ^111(1 Jemmy was crying and wanting to be at home 
 
 ugam. 
 
 " I then asked Annie if she was not afraid when 
 she saw me coming ?" 
 
 " Oh no," said she, '' we knew it was yon, very 
 well ; I told Jemmy before you came, that God would 
 send you when it was dark." 
 
 "Poor little things; in their simple faith, they 
 trusted in Grod, and He was to them as He is to all 
 who trust in Him, a very present help in time of 
 need." 
 
 " From what I gathered from the children, it 
 scorned that their poor mother had not known of 
 widow Fraser's death, which was the more surpris- 
 ing as it must have taken place fully three weeks 
 before her own." 
 
 " It was ten days ere the'water abated, and it was 
 many weeks before I could take a step further than 
 the hillock on which the cottage was built ; all the 
 fields over which the waters spread, were little more 
 than slush and mud ; the first time I tried to put my 
 foot beyond the hillock, I sunk more than ankle deep, 
 and had some trouble in rescuing my shoe which 
 remained in the mud after I had succeeded in draw- 
 ing out my foot, but it was a happier time for me, with 
 first the waters and then the mud round me, than I 
 had known for many a day. The children endeared 
 themselves to me with their sweet ways, more and 
 more every hour, and f3r them my little home with 
 its spence and but and ben, seemed a grand place in 
 
 i^'i 
 
 ■MB 
 
 1' ; 
 
ifTirf- 
 
 136 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 their eyes, accnstomoti as ihoy were to the one poor 
 little room their mother could pay lor by her isewinn'. 
 The hens were objects of special dehght, and iho 
 collie douf, and even the cow w^ero objects on which 
 they lavished their tenderness in the shape oi" little 
 Bolt pats and strokes. Poor little Annie, who would 
 fain have been a nurse, was sadly disappointed whiMi 
 after repeated endeavours, she found that none of 
 the hens would sit on her knee and allow themselves 
 be petted." 
 
 " A fine frosty winter set in, and when I found the 
 ji^round was quite hard enough, and I could be certain 
 of having iirm footing all the way to Beauly, I set olf ' 
 one morning at the break of day, to see what was 
 said about the children's disappearance, and whether 
 I could not manage to obtain some right to them. 
 The evening before, I told the children I was going 
 awav for an hour or two, but w^ould be back before 
 dinner, and that they were to rise, dress themselves,, 
 and take their breakfast of bread and milk which 1 
 had left for them, and leaving the collie dog, I had 
 no lear." 
 
 *' I went straight to the house wdiere their poor- 
 mother formerly lived ; the man who owned it, now 
 stayed there himself, and on asking for the children^ 
 he shook his head, and with a grave grieved look, he 
 told me that the day of their mother's funeral was: 
 ' the day before the spate, that while he and others 
 interested in them were gone from the house to burr 
 the dead in a distant church-yard where her husband 
 
.' It 1 
 
 m 
 
 he 
 as: 
 
 [rs- 
 Irr 
 lid 
 
 THE ■GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 137 
 
 was laid, the childroii had waiidorod away uno})sorv(Ml 
 by anyone; it was dark when he roturned IVom llie 
 funeral ; ihat every search was made Ibr tlieni aniont^ 
 the neighbouring" houses, yet from that day to tliis, 
 hey had never been heard of, that there was no 
 doubt they had wandered in the direction of the lirlli 
 and iierished in the waters ; the old man adding, 'Poor 
 little things, it is belter as it is, they have no one 
 belonging to them and must have gone on the parish.' 
 I told him how I had found the children, and that 
 they were in good hands, and I had soon a number of 
 people gather(3d round me eager to hear all I had to 
 tell, and all pleased to hear that the poor little tilings 
 were safe and well. I next went to the minister iind 
 from him obtained authority to keep the children; 
 ot only did he do this, but od'ered to help to main- 
 .aui them by giving them parish relief, 'lliis was 
 no doubt kindly meant by him, but I would rather 
 have brought them np on potatoes and salt, than have 
 allowed them to eat the bread of charity." 
 
 *' Everything throve after they came to the house, 
 and although we w^ere only two years on the farm 
 after they came, I sold a cow and a dozen of 
 sheep besides scores of fowls. I wrote to my children 
 telling them how God had sent widow Fraser's 
 grandchildren to my care, and my daughter has ever 
 since been begging me to come out to them and bring 
 the children." 
 
 "A few months ago I had five hundred pounds left 
 me by a brother I had not heard from for twenty 
 
 ill 
 
 i M 
 
188 
 
 THK GRAND Ck)UDONS. 
 
 II- . f 
 
 yoavH, 8() I thoncht: it h»»Ht to tako thii (;hildreii boHido 
 tlioNt» who wonUl caro lor tln*iii il' I won* i?on(». The 
 inlor«»8t oi this nionoy will koop Ihe childron until 
 th(»y aro a])hi to work for lluMiisi'lvcs, tho principal I 
 oonsidor as of rii^hi b^^Ions^inu" to my own children, 
 .loinniy and Annio arc Imth oU'ver, and wore I away 
 to-niorrovv, tlu^y will havt^ a kind mother in my 
 dauiyhter, and il'I am sparo<l a Tow yoars, porhaps 1 may 
 savo somothiniy to loaro with tht»m, as I havo enough 
 loft Irom Iht* stock and crop on my little croit to buy 
 an acre or two ot land beiside my daughter's i'arm." 
 
 "♦"►-O"** 
 
 *-«' 
 
-•« 
 
 i 
 
 CIIAPTBfl [X. 
 
 ^N the morniTipf of the fil'lh duy, the sun rose 
 briji^ht and boautilUl ; the skv above head 
 •® clouv aiid blue, with h(;re and there a «treak 
 of Httle fleecy clouds, makin][^ by the contrast the 
 clear blue seem more deeply blue. 
 
 One feels on such a morning, as if with bodies 
 differently constituted, it were an easy matter to enter 
 the Heavenly portals which are then ajar. 
 
 The sea seemed a field of green, undulating glass, 
 broken by little white crested billows, and the trail 
 of our steamer glittering in the sunshine like a 
 comet's train. On such mornings we feel our souls 
 irresistibly raised in praise to the Great All Father 
 for having placed us in a world of such beauty, and wo 
 feel a foretaste of the time when the Enemy who now 
 seeks for our souls, and tempts us each day and hour 
 to sin in thought, word and deed, will be chained for 
 a thousand years, and can deceive the nations no more. 
 
 I do not know whether it was from the fact of my 
 having been a governess, a circumstance I had not 
 mentioned myself, but which seemed nevertheless well 
 known all over the ship, or ray having taken widow 
 Campbell and her children into xxt^ cabin, (an act that 
 
fm . 
 
 iii* I i Hi 
 
 m'\ 
 
 \ I 
 
 lim' ' 
 
 •4 
 
 140 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 at least one of *he ladies on board highly disapproved 
 of, she havi'ig three children of her own, and as she 
 termed it, being terribly afraid lest " the dirty little 
 things should have some disease vs'^hich those low 
 children generally have," and so infest her darlings), 
 or last and worst offence against the established rules 
 of society, my going once or twice a day to speak to 
 Sandy Mitchell on the lower deck, he being, unfor- 
 nately for me, a handsome young man about my own 
 age ; whether it was any one of these three offences, 
 or all conjoined, I know not, but the result was, that 
 I was pretty vv^ell ignored by all the ladies on board, 
 except one; even the gentlemen were chary of their 
 attentions. 
 
 The neglect of the gentlemen might have arisen 
 from my homely face and shy, awkward manner in 
 the presence of strangers ; men, w^ith all their boasted 
 judgment and superiority in sense, are terribly frail 
 where a fair face is concerned, and will chat and laugh 
 "with the possessor of such for hours, while a plain girl 
 like myself is left to her own meditations entirely 
 unhiterfered with. But I do think, upon the whole, 
 that the lords of creation have quite as much dislike to 
 the governess as their fair wives and sisters have; they 
 do not absolutely turn their backs upon us, as many 
 ladies nxake no scruple of doing, but their air unmis- 
 takeably says in a certain nonchalant manner, " You 
 are not one of our set ; you must not expect us to open 
 the door for you, or hand you to a carriage with an air 
 of gallantry, as we do to Lady Edith or the Honorable 
 3ii8s Blanche ; you are gimply to be endured." 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 141 
 
 It is true that Lady Edith's geography carries her 
 no further than Europe, and with a very superficial 
 knowledge of even that portion of the world, she, 
 sweet innocent of twenty-one years, talking of Nova 
 Scotia as being in Upper Canada, or worse still, of the 
 Cape of Good Hope as forming port of Australia, 
 while the Honorable Miss Blanche, in writing to her 
 friends, is apt, without the aid of a dictionary, to 
 spell^as she pronounces, and her knowledge of history 
 is pretty much confined to the fact of Hichard Cceur 
 de Lion having been a brave warrior, who fought in 
 the Holy Land, and Henry the Eighth, a shocking 
 creature, who had a great many wives, and killed 
 them all ! but as to who reigned in Russia fifty years 
 ago, or who was king of Denmark fifty years preced- 
 ing that, she neither knows nor cares ; it is true she 
 might have heard of such things in the long i)ast, 
 when her governess, or x>erchance her brother's 
 tutor trijed (alas, in vain) to teach her the history of 
 Europe, but she yawned through such tiresome in- 
 formation at the time it was given, and never thought 
 of it since, her mind being entirely occupied with the 
 weighty matters of dress and croquet, whether rose 
 colour or peach-blossom are best suited to the colour 
 of her eyes, or equally, perhaps more important con- 
 sideration, whether white or coloured tulle are most 
 becoming to her by gas-light. 
 
 I overheard one of the gentlemen on board, a 
 respectable looking elderly man, evidently one who 
 felt himself of importance, probably from his means 
 and position both, and who was old enough to be 
 
■11 
 
 tl 
 
 142 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 my father, say, in reply to a question put by another, 
 as to who the young lady in black was; " She is some 
 governess girl who was teachhig in Edinburgh, and 
 is probably going to seek some similar situation 
 where she will be better paid on the western con- 
 tinent." The man's face betokened nothing hard or 
 unkind ; on the contrary, judging from his appearance, 
 I should say he was an aflfectionate and indulgent 
 father to his own girls, and would probably have 
 resented with fierce look and reproving word, any- 
 thing said by another to wound their feelings ; but 
 he did not stop for an instant to think whether the 
 governess girl might not be as sensitive as his own 
 cherished and richly endowed daughters, who might 
 feel themselves sorely aggrieved were they to over- 
 hear one of the aristocrats who sometimes find it 
 convenient to cultivate the acquaintance of those 
 who are a step or even two below their own rank, 
 saying with a stoney British stare, cold voice and 
 polished manner, the more cutting because of its 
 polish, " The girls in blue are daughters of a mil- 
 lionaire ; Wilson made his money by tailoring, and 
 he has now bought a fine place and set up lor a 
 gentleman. The girls have been carefully educated, 
 but there is a je ne sais quoi which must be learned 
 in their mother's boudoir which of course they have 
 not ; their manners have not the repose which marks 
 the class of Vere de Vere ;" the two others in gray 
 who have not the sense to cover the large ears be- 
 traying their ancestry, are the daughters of an iron 
 merchant ; he is an equally wealthy man with his 
 
THE GRAND GOKDOWS. 
 
 14a 
 
 friend, the tailor, aiid as pompous as if he were a 
 Howard, w^hile his lady strives to be kind and grand 
 at the same time. The girls feel the importance of 
 their father's long purse, his carriages, and grounds, 
 and happy young women, are unconscious that with 
 the nose of papa and the eyes of mamma they inherit 
 the slightest tinge of the pomposity of one and the 
 \Tilgarity of the other." 
 
 We are as a people, not unamiable or naturally 
 unkind, but we are more indifferent than, as Christians, 
 we ought to be to those who are either our dependants 
 or, by the lack of fortune, placed in situations where 
 it is absolutely necessary they must in some way or 
 other earn their daily bread ; this is particularly so in 
 the case of a young woman, no matter how good, amia- 
 ble, or well-informed she is, she may have been the 
 daughter of a lawyer, a learned man in high position,^ 
 or a clergyman who spent his life in Grod's service, and 
 by the many freaks of fortune, on the death of father 
 or husband, she must teach, or sew, or enter a shop, 
 in such situation for the first few years at least, to 
 earn almost bare bread. In the case of having a child 
 a little brother or sister to support, the bread must 
 be very bare ; were we to think of this for a moment, 
 it would make us careful indeed, lest we should add 
 another sting to the life already loo bitter ; we little 
 know the pleasure it may give, or the oppression of 
 heart it may relieve, if we greet with a pleasant bow, 
 and cheery smile the young lady, (ladies in the truest 
 sense of the word many of them are ) who the 
 
 
 ■it 3 
 
 u \ 
 

 
 .fvi 
 
 144 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 previous day waited on us so patiently in the 
 draper's shop, searching with such anxiety that she 
 might match the very shade of ribbon we wanted, 
 and unpacking bail after bail of muslin that we 
 might obtain the breadth and pattern desired, without 
 one word of murmur escaping her lips, or one shade 
 of impatience in her eye, although the attenuated 
 form and weary brow told too i^lainly that the 
 constant life of standing ( it is inadmissable for girls 
 in a shoj) to sit, ) was doing its work too surely in 
 undermining a constitution perhaps never very 
 strong. 
 
 While thinking on this subject, it has often occurred 
 to me that were ladies to set themselves to it, they 
 could, by a very slight attention to the time in which 
 they make their purchases, do more to ameliorate the 
 lives of both men and women, the employees of others, 
 in the much agitated question of long hours, than 
 employers will be able to effect for x)erhaps a gener- 
 ation to come. 
 
 Every year, we hear of young men making an at- 
 tempt to have their hours of servitude shortened, and 
 joining together to present i)etitions to their emi)loyers 
 for this x)uri)ose ; the young women not daring to do 
 more than feel anxious for the success of their always 
 failing experiment ; were only a few ladies to set their 
 face against making purchases after six o'clock, not 
 only discontinuing such themselves, but impressing 
 the same on their dependants, at the same time urging 
 their friends to adojit a similar line of conduct ; in a 
 very short time, evening shox)ping would come to bo 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 145 
 
 considered discreditable, and those masters who have 
 stood out against early shop-shutting, be induced to 
 «-dopt the system which many employers (all honour 
 to them therefore) have been trying in vain to intro- 
 duce ; vain, because buyers prefer to go out in the 
 cool of the evening to make purchases, w^hich by a 
 little self-sacrifice on their part, might be made in the 
 cool morning instead ; were each of us to think this 
 subject over calmly, and to examine into it, each for 
 ourselves, how much and how far we, as individuals, 
 are to blame for the pent up lives in crowded, un- 
 healthy shops wiiich our brethren are leading, alas ! 
 alas ! almost wearing out soul and body in a long 
 drudgery we could help if we would, the subject 
 would appear to us in the awful importance it assumes 
 in the eyes of Him who made all flesh of the same 
 blood, and each of us would exclaim with baited 
 breath, " I am indeed my brother's keeper." 
 
 As we neared Portland, Mrs. Rochester (the lady 
 referred to as having treated me with more consider- 
 ation than the others,) inquired whether I had 
 been careful in packing my trunk to avoid taking 
 unmade or even unwashed apparel ; I replied, that 
 on the contrary, my ticket being bought in Britain to 
 carry me straight through to Montreal, a British 
 colony, I was not aware that such care was necessary ; 
 that I had left Scotland on a few days notice, and con- 
 sequently had two unmade dresses, two dozen 
 unhemmed pocket handkerchiefs, gloves, and various 
 other articles which had never been in use. 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 " I am sorry for that," was her reply, " I fear you 
 have got to lose them ; all our trunks will be searched 
 immediately on landing* by a Custom House ofHcer, 
 and there is no chance of his allowing those articles. 
 to pass." 
 
 I felt very much annoyed by this, I could not 
 doubt that Mrs. Rochester's account was correct, as 
 the was an American and had crossed the ocean several 
 times, although Mr. Morton had been assured in 
 Glasgow that my through ticket would prevent any 
 annoyance of the kind ; had it been otherwise I should 
 never haA'^e thoiight of bringing a shilling's worth 
 of goods w^ith me which could infringe the laws of 
 the country I w^as to pass through ; as it was, there 
 was no help for it; I had, as Mrs. Rochester said, if 
 the examination was made, to make up my mind 
 to lose the thmgs, the loss of them indeed being the 
 least of the annoyance. What concerned me most 
 was that I had thereby laid myself under the impu. 
 tation of smuggling. 
 
 An hour or two after this conversation wuth Mrs. 
 Rochester, one of the ladies who had hitherto not 
 condescended to notice me, came up to where I sat 
 and with great frankness entered into conversation. 
 I was amusing myself by tatting, she offered to shew 
 me a new pattern. She sat by me fully an hour^ 
 and was so gracious, that I was at a loss to conceive 
 what her meaning could be. Towards evening she 
 again seated herself beside me, chatting pleasantly> 
 and making mo laugh by quizzing some oi the gen- 
 
 et 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 147 
 
 tlemen on board, whose appearance and habits laid 
 them open to smart remarks, offered me a bunch of 
 grapes of which she said she had a basket full in 
 store, and then came the explanation of her gracious 
 condescension, " Don't you hate to have your trunks 
 examined at Portland?" inquired she, "No," was 
 my answer, " I have a through ticket to Montreal* 
 and I hope this will save me all annoyance." 
 
 " Perhaps it will," replied she, "I have been in 
 France lately, and I have a siniill parcel oi gloves, not 
 larger than that, (measuring a small space in the air, 
 with her hands), it will occupy but a little place in 
 your trunk, and I will be ever so much obliged if you 
 will takr; care of it for me ; you can give it to me 
 back when we arrive at the hotel. Although so small, 
 the parcel contains iifty x>airs of gloves." 
 
 The cool impudence of this request astonished me 
 not a little, and as I looked in her face, my eyes 
 doubtless told what I felt, as without waiting for my 
 reply, she said — 
 
 " Even if your trunks were searched, they could 
 never be found out as they are carefiuly packed ux) 
 to look like a book." 
 
 " In that case," said I, "it will be folly in you to 
 lay yourself under an obligation to an entire stranger, 
 such as I am, nor would it be at all prudent in me to 
 break the laws of the land I am passing through." 
 
 She coloured slightly, but immediately a'dded — 
 ** You have unmade dresses in your trunk." "True/* 
 
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148 
 
 THE GRAND OORDONS. 
 
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 ropliod I, " but those I can Kaloly say are for ray own 
 use, which I coiikl not of your lii'ty pairs of gloves." 
 
 She p;ot uj) and lel't mo, and 1 had not again tlio 
 pleasure oi' being taken the least notice ol' during the 
 half day that intervened previous to our landing. 
 
 I found out ihat the Iwo cl(»rgymen, as well as iho 
 widow Campbell, her children, and Sandy wore to 
 be my companions on the railway to Montreal, and 
 although neither of them had at any time addressed 
 more than a few words to me, still I felt as if the rest 
 of the journey woidd be less lonely i'or their presence. 
 
 Now came the landing ; we were all desired to 
 walk up to a covered platform on shore, and there 
 wait ibr our luguage. ^Irs. Kochester, who was the 
 mother of the litth* girl who exclaimed on our leav- 
 ing (Jlasgow, " The bridge is broken," told me to keep 
 by her, and that we should go to the same hotel for 
 the night, which I very gladly agreed to do; the 
 possessor of the gloves was also close by on the plat- 
 form. 
 
 As soon as the Custom House officer appeared, 
 the latter placed her preity little straw-coloured 
 gloved hand on his' arm, while with the other she 
 held the key, saying, in a faint voice, and with a 
 languid, beseeching look, " Oh pray, open my trunk 
 first, I am so sick and weak I can scarcely stand, and 
 the carriage is there waiting to bring me to my hotel." 
 
 The man looked at her ■with a sympathizing* air, 
 saying, "You look kind of sick-like," and turning 
 towards the trunk, opened it at once. The contents 
 
 ii 
 
TIIFC (J RANI) OOUDONS. 
 
 140 
 
 wero covtTod with a Ihw whit« towol, on th<> top of 
 which hiy what Ht'oirKnl to ho a coiipK*, of bookn 
 loos(»ly wrapped in nowspapor. She lilted the books, 
 and placin*^ the parcel in his hand, Haid " juHt hold 
 that for a minute, my two })est drcHKcs are here and 
 1 am afraid you will crush th<»m," and while she 
 fipoke, liftini^ up the towel, placed it upon the wharf. 
 She then took out (he two dresses, shook them care- 
 fully and placed them on the towel, saying- to the 
 man, " now you can search yourself." 
 
 Still k(H»ping' the parcel in his hand, ho hfted up 
 each side of lh<i clothes to ascertain if there was 
 nothing else, there, throw the parcol on the top, put 
 the rc^quisite mark in chalk, and moved on. She 
 replaced lu^r dn^sses, locked her trunk, and I fancy 
 lelt very glad that her iifty pairs of gloves were safe. 
 
 When it came to my turn, Mrs. Kochester made 
 me show my ticket through to Montreal; the man 
 made no remarks, merely looking insid(^ my trunks, 
 and chalking them as he had done the others. Mrs. 
 Kochester's trunk occupied nearly as little time, 
 although he examined it with the same care as he 
 bestowed on that of the lady w ith the gloves, and in 
 due time, freed from the Custom House officers, we 
 arrived at the Exchange Hotel, where, as formerly 
 agreed upon, Mrs. llochester and I had a large double 
 bedded room between us. 
 
 She was a large, heavy woman, and had wrapped 
 herself up so, against the cold, before we left the boat, 
 that I did not wonder at her complaining of being 
 
 
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 160 
 
 THE GRAND aORDOX8. 
 
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 extremely tired when we arrived ; however, my 
 wonder at her fatinciio was k\ssened when she bei^an 
 to undress, as her three nnder-skirts consisted sever- 
 ally of velvet and silk, all made of enormous dimen- 
 sions, the linini? being of the some costly material, so 
 that they could easily bo transformed into dresses. 
 This was not all ; lace and ribbons were bound round 
 her arms, cambric handkerchiefs folded inside the 
 waist of her dress in all directions, while various 
 pairs of silk stockings were smootlily folded under 
 the pair she wore. I sat in mute astonishment while 
 she disrobed herself, and when all was ov(»r, she 
 seated herself, exclaiming with a sigh of relief, 
 " AVliat a mercy to be rid of all these things." 
 
 " Were you not afraid " asked I, " that all these 
 things would be discovered T 
 
 '* I can assure you I was," said she, looking at me 
 earnestly, " but you see I hud no time to get those 
 things made up, besides, I do not like your English 
 dress-makers ; I have sufl'ered so much anxiety from 
 having those things, and had so much trouble alto- 
 gether, that they are dear bought." 
 
 She was a kind-hearted, friendly woman, and I 
 parted with her and her pretty child next morning 
 with regret, although I must confess I did not admire 
 the lax way in which she obeyed the laws of her 
 countrv. 
 
MJ 
 
 
 ><♦- 
 
 II 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 *XACTLY Olio month after the last interview 
 
 •^ between Captain Percy and Lady Gordon, 
 
 recorded in the preceding pages, a traveller, warmly 
 wrapt in bufl'alo robes, fur cap and coat, pursued his 
 Avay in a one-horse sleigh along the mountain road 
 leading i'rom Montreal to.Isle Jesus. 
 
 The man was in no good humor, and drove furi- 
 ously over the frozen snow ; before arriving at the 
 Lachnpelle bridge, a jolly French sharky standing 
 upright in a brightly varnished, silver mounted 
 double sleigh, the back seat of which was occupied 
 by two ladies, and driving a hiuidsome team of gray 
 horses, called out to the traveller, in a loud voice : 
 *' The Queen's mail, the Queen's mail, clear the way 
 for the Queen's mail," 
 
 The moody traveller slacked his furious driving, 
 and drew to one side, upon which the Frenchman 
 ted himself, and first giving a fresh impetus to his 
 horses, turned round, and bowing with a gracious 
 jo] air, to the other who had slackened speed and 
 moved out of his way, exclaimed again : " The Queen's, 
 mail, the Queen's mail," laughing heartily as ho 
 spoke. 
 
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 152 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 It was but too evident to the traveller that he had 
 been taken in, that the bright carriage and gaily 
 caparisoned horses did not belong to the Queen'» 
 mail, and with something very like a muttered oath,, 
 he spurred on his horse in the vain attempt to pass 
 the other sleigh. This was impossible, from the snow- 
 banks which rose on either side, and the jolly French- 
 man well knew bis advantage, swinging his whip 
 gaily in the air, he again called out: '• The Queen's 
 mail, the Queen's mail," with a jaunty half-defiant air, 
 and putting his horses to their mettle, he and his 
 team were soon lost to sight. 
 
 The moody traveller had heard the smothered 
 laughter of the ladies, and felt as if were his power 
 equal to his wish, he would have lashed the ladies, 
 the Frenchman and his handsome team, and sent 
 them into one of the snow-banks ; as it was, he had 
 nothing for it, but to endure what he deemed an 
 insult, and which by the other was nothing but a ruse 
 to get in front, and thereby perhaps arrive at his 
 destination a few minutes sooner than he would have 
 done had he continued behind the single sleigh. 
 
 On the traveller went wrapped in his furs — crossed 
 the Lachapclle bridge, without deigning to reply to an 
 obsers'ation made on the severity of the weather by 
 the man who took the toll, and in passing through 
 the Bord-a-PloufF, up to the village of St. Martins,, 
 tried to share the lashes he had plentifully bestowed 
 on his horse since leaving Montreal, with the little 
 yelping curs that emerged from the cottages dotting: 
 the road on either side. 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 153 
 
 On arriving at the little auberge, the only place of 
 entertainment for man and beast, which the little 
 ^'illage boasted, he threw the reins to mine host, who 
 obsequiously came to attend the rara avis of a gentle- 
 man travelling in such weather ; and going into the 
 bar-room, drank a quantity of brandy, which would 
 have set one less accustomed to the liquor reeling, but 
 seemed to act merely as a quietus to the traveller's 
 disturbed spirit. Divesting himself of his fur coat, he 
 requested mine host to care for his horse until his 
 return, which he daid, might be in a few hours, or 
 might not be till next day, as he was going on to 
 the neighbouring village of St. Therese, and expected 
 a friend to meet him with his voiture. 
 
 The maitre d'hotel remonstrated with him on the 
 folly of leaving his fur coat, saying, " The day is 
 bright and clear, but Monsieur will bo frozen if he 
 rides without his furs ; it would be difforont if Mon- 
 sieur intended walking, the motion would be suffi- 
 cient and the furs oppressive, but riding. Monsieur 
 cannot go without his coat," and the officious French- 
 man taking it uj), offiired to aid in putting it on again. 
 
 The only answer he received was a sullen, defiant 
 look, as the other strode from the a?fherge, a second 
 time ordering mine host, in better French than he 
 himself spoke, to be careful of his horse. 
 
 " That is a curious, ill-tempered fellow," said the 
 host to his mate, gazing from the half-glass door in 
 the hostlery, as the traveller strode towards the cross- 
 roads, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of the 
 over-coat he had worn beneath his furs. 
 
 ■. ^: 
 
154 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 i. 
 
 " He is an ill-natured fellow," replied the dame, 
 ^' or else the brandy he has taken has made him so, 
 he did not stint himself in that, and I just wish he 
 would get the tips of his lingers frozen to teach him 
 more politeness." 
 
 Captain Percy, for the sullen traveller was no other 
 than he in one of his worst moods, pursued his way 
 for nearly a quarter of a mile towards St. Therese, and 
 ihen wheeling round, retraced his stops, making 
 "towards exactly the opposite direction. 
 
 As he got beyond the village, the path became less 
 trodden down, at times causing him great difficuliy 
 in passing through the untrodden snow. 
 
 *' I shall never be able to reach that abominable 
 hovel," said he, in a half audible voice; were it not 
 that I am spurred on by the hope of hearing that she 
 is dead and buried, I would certainly go back to 
 Montreal ; I will be half dead myself ere I can reach 
 that precious place ;" halting for a moment, as if a 
 sudden thought had struck him., he continued his 
 colloquy : 
 
 " A'ld if the people will not keep the cub, what am 
 I to do with it ? I never thought of that before, if I 
 could afford to give them a hundred dollars, probably 
 they would adopt it as their own, those snvages are 
 fond of such things, but the turn things have taken 
 with that old Jezebel leaves me with scarce a penny 
 at my command, and those wretches will doubtless 
 be clamouring for the last few months board ; it is 
 Jio great deal, to be sure, but it is quite enough for 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 155 
 
 ■I 1 
 
 what she eats, she has supported her half-decayed 
 l)ody principally by whining, for the last two years. 
 I wish the old Hecate could have seen her die in that 
 wretched hut, and amidst people to whom she could 
 Jiot spoak a word, it would have been rare fun," said 
 he, and he laughed a low horrible laugh as the 
 ihought fashioned itself in his mind, and the words 
 escaped his lips : " to have had the old jade chained 
 in an iron cage, to see the young one whining out her 
 last breath, so .near that she could distinguish every 
 look and hear every discontented whine, and yet so 
 far, that she could neither make herself be seen nor 
 heard ; ah, if the old wretch had died a year ago, how 
 would I exult ? Her first voyage in the spirit would 
 certainly have been a trip across the Atlantic, instead 
 of the one she is now making to seek for her beloved 
 child, ha, ha, ha," and he laughed a fiendish laugh, 
 Avhich almost startled himself, resounding, as it did, 
 in the clear frosty air around him. 
 
 " One good thing," added he, in a more subdued 
 tone, " wherever she goes, to Calcutta or Madras, she 
 can never find out that we sailed from there ; I took 
 good care of that, nobody knew who we were, but 
 poor Abby, and she has been as true to me as steel, 
 since the first day I saw her." 
 
 Amushig hims(>ir, or lashing his spirit, whichever 
 it might be, in this manner, he continued walking 
 for about four miles on the open road, and then 
 diverging into a by-path leading through the bush, he 
 pursued his way amid deep snow, at times almost up 
 
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li 
 
 156 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 to his knees, far into the thick bush, guiding himself 
 by a straight line towards the steeple of a church 
 which ho could see now and then when an opening 
 occurred, many miles in the distance. After a long 
 and tiresome walk, he reached a wooden cottage to 
 which was attached a small steading and barn. It 
 was the humble home of Momandagokwa, an Ojibawa 
 Indian from the Pagan reserve beyond Onandago, who 
 had fallen in love with, and married an Iroquois 
 woman from Caughnawaga near Montreal. The 
 woman who was herself a Christian, had sufficient 
 influence over her savage husband not only to make 
 him settle down near her own home among Iroquois 
 and French Canadians, but also to have him baptized 
 in the Catholic Church, by the name of Joseph Char- 
 treux, a name however which the other Indians never 
 called him by ; Captain Percy met and recognized 
 Momandagokwa on the street when he brought his 
 wife from New York to Montreal, as he hoped, to 
 die in a few weeks among strangers ; he was becom- 
 ing very weary of waiting for the event he so longed 
 for, and hailed as part of his good luck, the old 
 Indian whose acquaintance he had first made while 
 on a hunting tour in the North-west, with some of his 
 brother officers, when his regiment was stationed at 
 Montreal, many years previous to his introduction to 
 Margaret Gordon. 
 
 He was more than pleased with the rencounter when 
 he found that Momandagokwa's home was in the bush, 
 not over twenty miles from Montreal, that neither 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 157 
 
 his wife nor himself spoke one word of English, that 
 they lived in the heart of the wild bush, seven miles 
 from the nearest house, and that no one the Indian 
 knew, could speak other than Iroquois or French, 
 and to sum up all, Momandag jkwa was willing to take 
 Mr. Smith's (the name Captain Percy thought fit to 
 assume) invalid sister and her child to board for the 
 modest sum of ten dollars a month, with one hundred 
 dollars more, to be lodged in the hands of the Cure 
 of St. Martins, and delivered to the Indian, as payment 
 for the trouble and expense of deathbed and inter- 
 ment ; the latter ceremony Captain Percy assuring 
 Momandagokwa, he would prefer being as simple and 
 quiet as possible; his sister being a protestant,could not 
 of course be buried in the cemetery belonging to the 
 village, and as no service was necessary, it would be 
 the best plan to choose a nice spot in the bush, and 
 bury her there, " where " Captain Percy said heaving 
 a deep sigh to impress the Indian with an idea of his 
 love and sympathy for the sufferer, " the i^oor worn 
 out body will at last find rest." 
 
 He had taken his wife there a year previous to the 
 time of which we write, leaving her under the im- 
 pression that her mother was dead, and that he was 
 going home to inquire into the way in which Lady 
 Gordon had disposed of her house and fortune. 
 
 He was now at th^ door of the cottage which he 
 unceremoniously opened and walking into the apart- 
 ment which seemed to be at once kitchen, parlor and 
 bedroom, addressed himselt to an old couple who 
 
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 158 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 were seated by the stove, and without even the usual 
 preliminary of, good day, he abruptly asked the 
 question, 
 
 "Is she dead?" 
 
 " Bon-jour Monsieur," replied the woman, but he 
 with a gesture of impatience exclaimed a second time : 
 
 "Is she dead?" 
 
 " No, Monsieur," replied the woman, in a serious 
 subdued voice, " but she is very feeble, and eats less 
 than the child does ; sometimes for a whole day 
 nothing will pass her lips except cold water." 
 
 " In that case," replied Captain Percy, hastily, 
 " you should charge me less for her board." 
 
 " We could not well do that," replied the woman, 
 " you took care to have her board at the lowest penny 
 we could possibly give it, when you placed her here ; 
 1 do not believe she will ever get better in this house 
 where she has no one to speak to in her own tongue, 
 so, if you can get a cheaper place lor her, you had 
 better do so ; you told us when she came that she 
 could not live three months; I am an old woman, 
 little fitted to do more work than my own ; I have 
 kept her more for the love of Clod, than any profit 
 we have had." 
 
 " It is not my fault that she has not died," growled 
 Captain Fercy, and then, checking himself, as if con- 
 scious that he had already said* too much, added, " I 
 told you what more than one doctor in Montreal told 
 myself, when I was last here, I never expected to 
 see her alive again." 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 159 
 
 Turning on his heel as he spoke, he pushed open a 
 door at the other end of the room, and entering, stood 
 transfixed, with a shock of surprise ahnost akin to 
 horror, at the sight which met his gaze. 
 
 Seated close by the window, in a large rocking- 
 chair filled with pillows so as to support her more 
 easily, sat, or rather lay, what he believed to be the 
 lifeless body of his once beautiful wife. The face 
 although thin, was not emaciated, but so colorless, that 
 the snow outside the window seemed scarcely less 
 white than the face and beautifully shaped hands 
 that lay crossed upon her bosom. Her fair hair 
 streaming in undulating waves over one shoulder. 
 
 Except a small table placed beside the rocking- 
 chair, and a bed at the farther end, there was no 
 furniture in the apartment ; the well scoured floor 
 being covered a yard or two round the chair whore 
 the invalid sat, with little strips of catalaine, a kind 
 ol cotton carpet which the Canadian peasantry weave^ 
 
 lie remained in the door way for several seconds 
 gazing on the white face and recumbent form before 
 him ; that he did so with a feeling of self-reproach, 
 the first words he uttered testified too clearly. 
 
 " It is not my fault," he muttered in a subdued 
 voice, as if conscious he stood in the presence of 
 death, " I did not paralyze her, and how could I carry 
 a half-dead woman about with me ; besides the doc- 
 tors all said she would be better in a quiet country 
 home." 
 
 As he spoke, the old woman entered the chamber ; 
 
; 'i 1 
 
 160 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 she evidently shared his belief that the spirit had fled 
 from the white inanimate form before them. 
 
 '• My God !" exclaimed Madam Chartreux, (as she 
 always called herself. She had been much among 
 the French Canadians in the vicinity of Caughnawaga, 
 had learned many of their cleanly nice ways, and 
 aspired to be considered one of them rather than an 
 Indian squaw) " she is dead, and without seeing the 
 priest." 
 
 The heavy white eyelids and dark lashes half 
 raised themselves for a moment, and droaped again 
 as if the trance or slumber was still unbroken. 
 
 " No," exclaimed the woman, " thanks to the good 
 God, she is not dead," and calling in a quick loud voice 
 to the old man, " Run, Joseph, harness your horse and 
 bring Monsieur le Cure herewith the greatest speed." 
 
 " You shall do no such thing," rudely exclaimed 
 Captain Percy, " I told you before, she is a Protestant, 
 and cares not for the rites of the Catholic Church ; 
 besides it is pretty evident she is neither dead nor 
 dying ; look at her now." 
 
 The loud tones in which the old woman and 
 Captain Percy both spoke, aroused the sleeper to full 
 consciousness. For a moment, the dark gray eyes 
 seemed to gaze on vacancy, and then suddenly they 
 were lit up with a smile of pleasure, and the cheek 
 glowed with a hectic flush which might have cheated 
 the beholder into the belief, that health with all its 
 kindred blessings, shone there. " Oh Bertram," said 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 161 
 
 she, holding out her left hand towards him, and 
 raising her recumbent form a little, as she spoke. 
 
 He came towards her, and taking her extended 
 hand, raised it with a look of gallantry he well knew 
 •iow to assume, to his lips. 
 
 " Why Tiny," said he, " you seem as well and look 
 as beautiful as when I first saw you." 
 
 A faint smile illuminated her face, as she replied, 
 ^' I shall never be well again, and without health 
 there can be no beauty, but seeing you was such a 
 pleasant surprise, I dare say it has given color to my 
 cheek. Dear Bertram," continued she, pressing the 
 hand with which he had lifted her own to his lips, " I 
 never expected to see you more, you have been away 
 such a long time, I feared that baby would be all 
 that was left you on your return." 
 
 As she spoke, she looked towards the snowy bed 
 wher on lay a little girl in rosy sleep. " These peo- 
 ple are very kind to her and she is beginning to 
 speak their language, but they are not fit persons for 
 her to be left alone with." 
 
 The words were spoken in broken sentences as if 
 it cost her an efibrt to speak, which she would fain 
 conceal. 
 
 " Fear not," said he, " she shall not be left with 
 them, and as to the time I have been away, it is not 
 long, considering what I went to accomplish, but I 
 might better have stayed here than be spending my 
 money for such a purpose. I find the account given 
 by Morrison of your mother's religious craze was too 
 
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 162 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 true ; the old house at Leith is sold, and the servants 
 dispersed to other situations, not the slightest acknow- 
 ledgment being left to any one of them for their long 
 and faithful services. To Robert, who was either 
 infected with her own religious views, or thought it 
 his interest to affect being so, she has left ten thou- 
 sand pounds ; the rest, a fortune in money alone of 
 fifty thousand pounds, besides the landed property 
 which must be sold for an immense sum, all goes to 
 aid the cause of African missions ! Her executors are 
 the board of directors of African missions, and every 
 farthing of funded money and bank stock has been 
 raised and invested by them. The old house at 
 Leith has been converted into a distillery, the shrub- 
 bery and gardens filled with barrels and lumber of 
 all sorts. The grand old trees in the shrubbery are 
 alone standing to tell what it once was." His con- 
 science never once reproached him while he lied so 
 glibly ; just three wrecks previous, he had seen Lady 
 Gordon apparently in better health than she had 
 known for years, and while he spoke he believed she 
 was on her Avay to search out her daughter's grave 
 in distant India, but he had told his wife fully a year 
 before, that her mother was dead, and he believed 
 the mental torture he was now inflictinsj would 
 hasten her own death, a consummation he most earn- 
 estly wishec\ 
 
 " Oh do not tell me more," gasped the poor woman 
 to whom he lied with so little mercy. 
 
 " I must tell you all I have seen and heard," said 
 
TIIK GKAND GORDONS. 
 
 168 
 
 (I 
 
 d 
 
 ^n 
 
 he, " you begged of me to go and learn the truth, and 
 you must now hear it ; nay, you not only urged me 
 to go myself, but you indulged in the most violent 
 sorrow because I would not agree to your going with 
 me, a paralyzed woman with literally one half of her 
 body ht only for the grave, at an expense that if I 
 had sold my last coat, I could not have paid for ; had 
 I brought you to Edinburgh, when I arrived there I 
 would not have had enough to pay for a house to 
 shelter you, or to buy you a dinner." 
 
 " Oh Bertram," exclaimed she, while the tears ran 
 down her pale cheeks like rain, " were I once more 
 in Edinburgh, I would find plenty of food and shelter, 
 even although my dear mother is dead and gone." 
 
 " There I must undeceive you," replied he, with a 
 cold, cruel voice, as if he rejoiced in being able to 
 torment the poor dying woman, " your brother has 
 gone to the dogs with horse-racing; his estates are in 
 trust, while he himself is somewhere on the Conti- 
 nent, nobody knows where, luxuriating on the two 
 hundred a year allowed him by his trustees. Gordon 
 of Haight, and Seaton of Thurlow, greedy old men, 
 Jiot contented with their own broad acres and hand- 
 some incomes, have ruined themselves by dabbling 
 in railway stock ; while your ci-divant lover, or I 
 should rather say your former love. Major Seaton, has 
 married some girl of inferior rank in Edinburgh, and 
 gone to India with his regiment, no heaven for him 
 you may believe, as the other officer's wives refuse to 
 associate with his. Robert Morton thought he had 
 
 
I 
 
 V 
 
 164 
 
 THE OUAND GORDONS. 
 
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 ■U 
 
 i|i ! i. 'i 
 
 
 
 J 4 
 
 I 
 
 I lltl 
 
 made a better spec ; he married a girl whom he sup- 
 posed had money, and went to London, Brougham- 
 like, to gain fame and fortune at the English bar, but 
 the money somehow eluded his grasp ; the English 
 do not seem to appreciate his talents, and so, beset 
 with duns, he took to drinking, and when I passed 
 through London a few weeks ago, I saw him there 
 in the street, a briefless barrister with absolutely 
 scarcely a shoe to his foot; so you see there is an end 
 of both your old loves." 
 
 The poor stricken woman leant her pale fair head 
 on her left hand, which alone she was able to move, 
 fiaying in a low tone, as if almost heart-broken, " Oh 
 Bertram, you know too well neither of them were 
 loves of mine." 
 
 " If they were not your loves, they were your 
 lovers, which comes in my opinion to much the same 
 thing," replied he, in an angry voice. 
 
 " Tell me about my children, and whether mamma 
 mentioned me in her will ; it would be a comfort now 
 to know she had done even this, although she did 
 not deem it wise to provide for me," said she, lifting 
 her eyes to his face, with a supplicating look, and 
 slightly raising her thin left hand as if it too would 
 beg for mercy ; either look or motion w^ould have 
 been successful pleaders to the heart of most men, 
 but Captain Percy's whole soul was so swallowed up 
 in selfishness there was no mercy left. 
 
 ( " The children I have sent out to board, at a sum 
 of twenty pounds each, but miserable as the pittance 
 
 i;..! \ 
 
THE ORAxND OOIIDONS. 
 
 1G6 
 
 is I know not where I am to obtain money to pay it, 
 it seems as if there was nobody in the world to do 
 anything- for you all, but me; I who was formerly 
 nobody, a mere cypher ; I am now the only one the 
 whole four of you have to depend on for a loaf of 
 bread ; The only notice taken of you in your mother's 
 will was, that she had given you more than you 
 deserved, and she believed, more than you wished, 
 as since your marriage you had never asked her for 
 even a hundred pounds ; you see what I often told 
 you has come to pass, you would not make your 
 needs known to her, and she naturally concluded you 
 either did not require, or scorned her assistance." 
 
 The poor stricken woman again leant on her hand 
 and sobbed out in her misery, '• mamma, mamma, 
 why could you not read my heart better ? Oh that I 
 could have seen you but for one hour, and been able 
 to ask your love and forgiveness ere your death." 
 
 " There is no use whimpering over it now," said 
 Captain Percy, striking his outstretched legs with 
 his handkerchief, w^hich he had evidently taken from 
 his pocket for the purpose, "You know well your 
 mother was never a favorite of mine ; even before 
 our marriage it was with difficulty I could conceal 
 my opinion of her character, afterwards the more I 
 knew of her the more I disliked her ; I never knew a 
 woman I disliked more or respected less, but in this, 
 she was right, what is not worth asking, particularly 
 from a mother may with justice be supposed to be 
 an unwelcome gift, there is perhaps nothing more 
 
 i' 
 
 "1 -^ •-• 
 '1' 
 
166 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 galling, than to give (even out of our abundance) 
 what is slighted or for aught we know may be 
 scorned, you are aware that the terms in which you 
 thanked your mother for her penuriously bestowed 
 gifts were such as to be easily construed into a wish 
 on your part that they might be discontinued ; be- 
 tween you both, you have left me in a pretty predica- 
 ment, four useless people to feed and clothe while 
 the means of doing either are scant enough." 
 
 He paused, throwing himself back in his chair 
 with the air of an injured man weary of his subject, 
 while the poor frail being })efore him sobbed as if 
 her weak body must give way under the violence of 
 the emotion which consumed her soul. 
 
 •' Oh ! Bertram, spare me, spare me," she exclaimed, 
 trying to lean towards him, "It is impossible I could 
 live long like this," as she spoke, placing her poor 
 white left hand first on one paralyzed limb and then 
 on the other, " and perhaps God in His goodness will 
 take the little ones too ; there must be some terrible 
 mistake, mamma always told me that although the 
 money would be tied up, yi»t all she had would be 
 mine, and even the last day I saw her," as she spoke 
 the reminiscences her words ealled up seemed com- 
 pletely to overcome her and to take away the i:)Ower 
 of speech. Some minutes passed ere it was possible 
 for her to utter in words the sad memories that were 
 breaking her heart; at length she resumed ; " Mamma 
 tried then to make me i)romise that at her death, should 
 it take place previous to our return from India, wo 
 
 sh( 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 16T 
 
 would at once come home and live in the old house ; 
 1 could not promise this, because I knew how much 
 you hated Scotland and everything Scotch, oh that I 
 had known it years before, but I said what I then 
 never doubted that I was sure you would keep your 
 promise of sending me home at the end of two years, 
 and I felt strong in the faith that she would be the 
 first to welcome me; oh that I had ol> -yed the im- 
 pulse so strong n\)on me that day, and stayed at home 
 with my mother in the house where I was bred and 
 born, oh ! mamma, why did you not speak one " 
 
 Tears choked her utterance ; her whole body shook 
 as if she had an ague lit, while the unworthy man 
 she called husband looked with callous heart and 
 iron brow on the misery which he and he alone had 
 caused; he waited until the tears only fell one by one 
 and then cooly said : 
 
 " I see you have not forgotten your old trick of fancy- 
 ing yourself a martyr, you ar'> thoroughly Scotch in 
 that at all events ; you complain I come so seldom to 
 see you, and yet when I do come, you treat me to a 
 dish of tears seaso'.icd with reproaches which I 
 neither understand Jiov deserve; good-bye, when I 
 come again six montus hence, I suppose I will have 
 the pleasure of paying for your own and your child's 
 board, as I must do to-day ; good-bye." 
 
 As he spoke, he put on hi.s fur cap, pulled it firmly 
 down over his ears, and strode from the room, bang- 
 ing the door in his exit. 
 
 "Bertram, Bertram, come back for one moment," 
 she cried beseechingly. 
 
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168 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS 
 
 f. !,:: 
 
 He half-opened the door, and putting in his head^ 
 said curtly, "" What do you want V" 
 
 " Oh Bertram, take me away from this place, and 
 put me among people whose language I understand." 
 
 " Certainly," was the quiet reply, " If you can tell 
 mo where I will iind the money to do so." 
 
 " 1 do not wish to cause more expense than I now 
 do, I dare say, poor as the place is, it costs quite as 
 much as you can aflbrd, but it is at times so oppres- 
 sive, the sense of utter loneliness, on and on, day 
 after day, without ever hearing a word I can under- 
 stand, or being able to make myself undorslood 
 except by signs; surely there are English people 
 who will take me on the same terms as Madam C-har- 
 troiix does." 
 
 By the time his wife had finished speaking,. 
 Captain Percy had entered the room and seated 
 himself ; without removing his fur cap, he looked her 
 cooly and determinedly in the face, as he replied in 
 slow measured terms and in a tone of voice a little 
 louder than his wont. 
 
 '- You are entirely mistaken in supposing that an 
 lilnglish family, however poor, would take charge of 
 you in your present helpless state for double the sum 
 I now pay. Your mother whom you so regret and 
 love, left an immense fortune to Negroes and (but 
 for me) consigned you and your children to beggary ; 
 her cidpable negligence in not having you taught 
 French, or your own laziness in relu.sing to learn it,. 
 cannot be laid to my charge, neither am J to blame 
 
THE GRAND OOUDONS. 
 
 169 
 
 that you aro doomed for the Test of your life to •'ra^ 
 about with you a dcnxl lo^ and arm ; pray point out 
 if posts! bia (withrmt your usual vehomonce and tears,) 
 what you would have me to do ; if within the })<>und8 
 of possibility I will endeavor to meet your wishi^s ; 
 but it is useless to waste <ime and words in ask in t^ 
 me to do what is impossible with my limited means. 
 Do you imaj^iue if I had a pound to spare I would 
 have walked twenty mih^s throug-h dee^) snow to pay 
 your l)oard and have this pleasant interview, with 
 the prospect of walking back er(; I sleep ? " 
 
 •* Oh Pieriram," she exclaimed, pressinir her hand 
 to her bosom, " is it possil)le 'i — you will kill yourself, 
 how uuiust I have been." 
 
 " 'iiiui is nothinjif nc^w," was the reply, utt<»red in 
 the same cool calculatiujL^ voice, " have you anything 
 more to say i It' I am to reach a sleeping place by 
 midnight it is time I was ofl." 
 
 " 'Dear Ikrtram, do stay and sleep in my little ])ed, 
 Madame C'hartreux will take baby and I shall sleep 
 in this chair ; 1 often do." 
 
 " It seems to have entirely escaped your memory," 
 replied he with a sarcastic reptUlant air, " that I am 
 a hired clerk working for a master; my wages going 
 to support a wile, one half of whose body is lit only 
 for the grave and her three children, and that two 
 months of this year have been spent in a fruitless visit 
 to my wife's country at her nquest; Mrs. Percy you 
 ought to have married a gentleman of leisure, good 
 bye." So saying he bowed with the formality he 
 
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 170 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 would have used to a perfect stranger, walked from 
 the room and closed the door. 
 
 On Captain Percy's leaving his wife's room, he 
 found the old peoi)le seated by the stove, just as he 
 left thorn, and sitting down, pulled out his purse, and 
 paid Madame Chartreux in one dollar bills for the 
 board of his wife and child during the last six 
 months, at the rate of ten dollars a month. He 
 handed her the money in silence, which was received 
 by the woman in like manner and handed to her 
 hvisband, he in his turn on receiving the money 
 counted it and going to the further end of the apart- 
 ment locked it in a cuplioard which was fastened 
 both to the lioor and the wall. 
 
 Captain Percy rose ait if about to depart, when the 
 woman motioned him to be seated; saying as she did 
 so, " We cannot keep your sister any longer unless you 
 pay her board before-hand, we would not have kept 
 her so long as we have done, because we are i)oor 
 and are not able to do justice to her or ourselves 
 unless we have money to buy her necessaries, but 
 the weather has been so severe for two months back 
 we knew it would have killed her had we brought 
 her into Montreal." 
 
 His hetvrt gave a sudden start at the danger he 
 would have incurred had they carried their threat 
 into execution. 
 
 " I have been in Europe for some months back," 
 replied he ; " besides I never expected she would have 
 been ahve until now, and hence that you would have 
 
 ha 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 171 
 
 Teceived the money which I placed in the hands of 
 Monsieur le Cure to repay you for the trouble you 
 will necessarily have in attending on her deathbed. 
 You know I explained to you before, that you had 
 only to go to Monsieur le C^ure when she is dead, 
 and he will pay you one hundred dollars to pay for 
 the interment of the body." 
 
 " Well," replied the woman, " it is a great deal of 
 money, but it would be better for you to give a part 
 of it every month to buy some nice things for her to 
 eat ; she will not trouble you long ; I do not think 
 fihe would be alive novv , were it not for the good care 
 I have taken of her, and these last six months I was 
 not able to do what I could wish, because I was oft(»n 
 without ready money to buy either tea or sugar, and 
 it is easily seen a lady like her has been accustomed 
 , to that all her life." 
 
 " Oh, as to that," said he, " if you give her the 
 soup you have for yourselves, I am sun she will be 
 quite pi' dsed with it ; she did not complain to me of 
 having missed her tea." 
 
 " That may be, I do not think she is of a complain- 
 ing nature, she is always sweet and pleasant, but at 
 odd times I have tried her with our soup when we 
 have had nothing else to give, and when it was set 
 before her she would eat one or two spoonfuls, and 
 then shaking her head sadly, put it from her ; but 
 the little girl," continued the woman in a cheerful 
 tone, " would eat anything, she is a true Canadian. 
 Even if her mother were dead, we would like to keep 
 the little girl." 
 
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 172 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 " Then you shall do so," said Captain Percy. 
 
 " Yes," said the old man, " we would not like to 
 part with her at all, s!ie is the life of the whole house, 
 I do not think her poor mother could have lived, but 
 for her, and every day she is becoming more inter- 
 esting with her little sharp ways." 
 
 " However," said the woman, who appeared to fear 
 Captain Percy would again go away without paying 
 the board before-hand, " we cannot keep the one or 
 the other, unless the board is paid in advance. Had 
 you not come now, I would, certainly, the first mild 
 day, have taken her into one of the English priests. 
 in Montreal and left her with him." 
 
 This was a consummation of all things to be 
 dreaded, and he hastily assured the woman that the 
 board would be paid regularly in advance, addingr 
 " I will pay a portion of it at present. Shall I pay 
 you for three months V Do you think it is likely she 
 will live so long ? You know you will receive one 
 hundred dollars when she dies." 
 
 " I know that very well, but we are not going to 
 kill her and jeopardy our souls for a hundred dollars, 
 or ten times that much," replied the woman, indig- 
 nantly — " How can I know how long she will live ? 
 I am not I he good God who can tell the time allotted 
 to the lives of each of His creatures." 
 
 Captain Percy stared rather blankly ; he saw that 
 he had overstepped the limits of prudence, and that 
 w^hile wishing to excite the cupidity of the woman, 
 he had unveiled his own desire for the speedy death 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 173 
 
 of the poor invalid. Counting out another handful 
 of bills to pay for three months in advance, he de- 
 l^arted, resuming" his moody walk towards the high 
 Toad from which he had descended into the bush. 
 
 " I have got myself into a pretty mess," he solilo- 
 quised, " it is truly, as the saints say — ' The devil 
 helps us into the dit'^h and leaves us there.' I have 
 made a false move this time, that is clear, yet who 
 could have thought that Tiny, with half her body 
 paralyzed, could have lived one-third the time she 
 has done. Every doctor who ever prescribed for her, 
 assured me she could not live three months, and here 
 she is alive yet. Some people have the tenacity ot 
 life belonging to cats ; if the doctrine of the transmi- 
 gration of souls be true, it is very likely her mother 
 was a cat some sixty years ago. But the question 
 Avith me now is, what is to be done ? I do not pay 
 a great sum, to be sure, to these people, but I do not 
 wish to be coming to this confounded place every six 
 months, and I dare not run the risk of its being found 
 out who she really is, and this might happen any 
 moment, were she to come in contact with one who 
 speaks English. However, here there is not much 
 fear of that. These old people down in tho bush, 
 live an isolated life, and she cannot live much louger. 
 To-day she looked as surely dead as if she were 
 shrouded in her grave ; I wish she had been so." 
 
 lie strode on in the same mood until within a 
 short distance of the village, where he came upon a 
 peasant with his two sons, who at the door of an 
 
 
 
 1 I ■ >8 
 
'i. 
 
 174 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 Open barn, were engaged in skinning the body of a 
 horse. At another time he would have passed by- 
 such a thing unheeding! y, but he was worn out with 
 fatigue in walking through the deep snow ; he had 
 tasted nothing since the brandy he drank in the 
 morning, and feeling much need of repose walked 
 into the barn in order that he might rest himself for 
 a few minutes. 
 
 " What are you occupied about, my man ?" said he 
 addressing the peasant, " What has happened to your 
 horse?" 
 
 " I know not," said the man ; " last night he wa» 
 well and hearty, this morning he drank but would 
 not eat, and half an hour ago I found him dead." 
 
 " That is the way my friend," said Captain Percy ; 
 our animals whom we would fain keep, die and leave 
 us, while our useless friends whom we have to feed 
 for nothing, stick by us as if they had a hundred 
 lives." 
 
 " That is true," said the man, " and I have had a 
 hard lot of it with my cattle. In the twelve years I 
 have been here, I have lost fourteen horses and ten 
 cows." 
 
 " Why that is an extraordinary thing," said Captain 
 Percy, there must be something wrong with your 
 land, there must be some poisonous herb in your 
 grass." 
 
 " Ah no," said the man, " it is my bad chance, my 
 predecessor never lost a horse or a cow that I know 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 175 
 
 of. I have had ray land twice blessed by the priest,. 
 but it makes no diti'erence." 
 
 " And do you believe the priest has any power in 
 such things ? " asked his guest. 
 
 " I know he has no power over my cattle, or to 
 send me good luck," said the habitant. " I have a 
 payment of a hundred dollars to make on my farm in 
 a few weeks. I depended on the sale of this horse 
 for doing so ; I refused ninety dollars for him last 
 week, and now all he is worth to me is what I can 
 get for the skin." 
 
 Captain Percy felt interested. This man might 
 be less scrupulous than the people down in the bush» 
 and were he to place Mrs. Percy in his charge, she 
 might be neglected for a few days, and the man 
 receive money to pay the debt on his farm now 
 staring him in the face. 
 
 " I should like to speak to you i" your own house 
 and alone," soid he, " I will therefore wait till you 
 have completed your present labor, and go with you." 
 
 To this proposition, the farmer readily assented, 
 and in a short time led the way towards his dwel- 
 ling ; when they entered the house, the family were 
 all gathered in the kitchen, ready for supper. 
 Captain Percy saw at a glance, that the poor man 
 w^ho had just lost his horse, had something over a 
 round dozen mouths to leed, besides a family of ten 
 children and his wife, there was an old grandmother, 
 who appeared verging on a hundred yetirs. The 
 farmer, notwithstanding his recent loss, hospitably 
 
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 176 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 > 
 
 invited Captain Percy to share their frugal meal ; this 
 he refused to do, with the suavity he knew so well 
 how to assume, but requested that the farmer might 
 at once see him alone on the business he spoke of, as 
 he wished to reach Montreal as quickly as possible. 
 
 Joinnette, such was the habitant's name, led the 
 way into an adjoining apartment, saying to his wife, 
 " Rose, come and hear what the gentleman lias to 
 
 say." 
 
 Captain Percy knew too well the influence which 
 French Canadian women hold over their husbands 
 to make any objection to this proposition, and stepped 
 aside, that the farmer's wife might enter before him, 
 an attention he knew the poorest Frenchwoman ex- 
 pects and appreciates. 
 
 " Do you speak English ? " was the first question 
 Captain Percy asked, addressing the farmer and his 
 wife in common. 
 
 " No," was the answer he received, simultaneously 
 given by both. 
 
 This was the answer he expected and wished to 
 receive. 
 
 " I suppose you are poor, and would be glad to 
 receive such help as would enable you to pay the 
 sum you are now due upon your land." 
 
 " We would be very glad of that," said the woman, 
 " I dont know what will become of us unless in some 
 way or other we meet the payment. If we cannot 
 do so, we will have to leave this place that we have 
 
THE GRAND OOUDOXS. 
 
 "■two 0, three year, t^.v 1' n '•'' f ^•""'' °'«1'»"1''. 
 "•.11 be a source' of ^^ f ^ " '^ ".' f»" ■"^-i,..., an.l 
 ^ve should lose all IhlToclnT' ''"""' ^""^ ">„( 
 
 "' your power to g-ai,, J^ZInh 'f" ^ '"'"• P«' '"' 
 The farmer n,.^ u- '" " '•""•' «»"e" 
 
 «ea„i„^eoul/be, SlShe "oHh '"' ^'r ^''""'^-'^ 
 ior Captain Percy to expiate l^J^ -'«"=- 
 
 -wSiv2r,t:;r^l;v-v"'^-iwish 
 
 wasonable payment for ,h "^ ^ '"'" ^'"'^ yon a 
 
 «nd the doctors tel mt V """"' '^' '« Paralyzed 
 over a few week^fy": le' T'^'T" '"' '^^ *° '"' ' 
 ^"'ff- I will mysdf ir 1 u """ "°* *^<»''"« you 
 and I Will ^ive you " aSded " I Z"""™' "'""'"" 
 ■"adam, " in addition to her K ' "''''T""^ W^self to 
 to pay for the troub e of w ' ','"""^''"^ ''''"a'N 
 "' y°" house, and tlis sum "f.f ,''"'*"' »■"• '">"•' 
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 the^:to'';ru?^^'"-''^"^-.'Crew^^^^ 
 
 before she was paralyzed T / T, Z'^'''''* ^''en 
 «^ertion of driviL here 1 ,v '"'°^'''' *« W"^" 
 hapten her death, so tl^vt hi ""^'^ ^'''='*<'^ ^i" 
 
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178 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 many days. I will pay her board by the month ii» 
 advance, and should she not live a week you will 
 have the month's board and a hundred dollars in 
 gold for your trouble " 
 
 There was no answer, the faces of both expressed 
 surprise more than any other emotion ; it was evident 
 they must be better informed as to his meaning (and 
 he fancied from the review he took of his own 
 soul) perhaps a larger bribe offered, and he added 
 speaking slowly lest his Parisian French might not 
 be properly understood by the Canadian habitant. 
 
 " I live in New York ; I have a very particular 
 reason for wishing to be there on the tenth of this 
 month ; to-day is the first, I will bring my sister here^ 
 to-morrow, and if you can manage to have the funeral 
 on the seventh, I can then leave Canada on the eighth,, 
 after settling all the bills, so that my returning here 
 again is unnecessary. I will make the sum one hun- 
 dred and fifty dollars in gold ; there is no violences 
 needed, all you have to do is to leave her alone ; shfr 
 cannot move from the place you lay her down ; you 
 run no risk ; you save your farm ; and have still fifty^ 
 dollars to buy another horse." 
 
 The farmer took out his handkerchief and wiped 
 off" the big drops of perspiration which stood on his: 
 face. " Oh Hose," exclaimed he to his wife in a hor- 
 rified voice, while she on her part, with her tall 
 portly figure drawn up to its full height, and arms; 
 crossed on her large bosom looked down with offended 
 dignity from the height of her integrity and poverty 
 
 f|:M 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 17& 
 
 on the contemptible worm whom they both knew 
 was tempting them there, even as the old serpent 
 tempted our first parents in the Paradise of Grod. 
 
 Madame was the first to speak. " I would not take 
 your sister into my house and let her die by neglect 
 or ill-treatment, if my children and myself were to be 
 cast out of the farm to-morrow morning. May our 
 ever blessed Notre Dame des Neiges and St. Francois 
 Xavier aid your sister in life and help her in death ; I 
 fear she will get little help or aid from you." 
 
 " Oh Rose, do not speak that way," said the farmer ; 
 the natural politeness of his race deprecating the idea 
 of insulting a stranger who was their guest. 
 
 Captain Percy saw he was understood, and how 
 appreciated, and turning on his heel, had left the 
 house ere the others, in their horror and indignation, 
 had moved from the spot. 
 
 The old woman who had meanwhile been listening 
 at the door of an inner apartment, joined the farmer 
 and his wife on the departure of Captain Percy, 
 saying, as she did so. *' That man is the brother of 
 the lady who lives down at Joseph Chartreux's house, 
 the Indian in the bush." 
 
 " Whoever he is," replied the farmer, " he is a bad 
 man, and surely it was the Devil who sent him here 
 to tempt us in our need, perhaps it is the old black 
 man himself. The boys and I were in the barn for 
 an hour before he came up, and we did not see any- 
 thing on the wide waste of snow until he stood at 
 the door." 
 
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180 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 i 
 
 " Perhaps," said the old woman solemnly, 
 " Perhaps," echoed the children, as they had all, the 
 whole ten of them gathered round their parents, 
 shuddering at the thought that a fiend in human shape 
 had been their guest a few minutes previously. 
 They were not mistakei^, they had indeed seen a 
 fiend in human form. 
 
 On quitting Joinnette's house. Captain Percy 
 walked quickly towards the auberge, where he had 
 left his horse ; he was ravenously hungry, and gross 
 eater as he was, the interesting question of what 
 could be had in the poor country tavern to satisfy 
 his appetite, for the time completely occupied all 
 his thoughts. Arrived at the inn, he demanded of the 
 host what he could have for dinner. 
 
 This was the subject on which mine host of the 
 Beaver Hotel loved to dilate, and at once began to 
 enumerate all the good things he could set before the 
 traveller, counting each separate dish on his fingers, 
 and speaking in a brisk, pleased voice as if he was 
 sure he had a bill of fare fit for a Prince. 
 
 i " I have coffee, tea, home-made bread, eggs, pork, 
 milk and potatoes. AVhat will Monsieur have ? " 
 
 " Have you no beef, no mutton ? " 
 
 " No, Monsieur ; this morning we had plenty of 
 both ; we have many customers ; it is all gone ; had 
 Monsieur spoken in the morning I would have kept 
 one little roast for him ; now it is all gone." 
 
 The truth was, there had been neither beef nor 
 
Kmi!':^»^>,>^*y''^--^-^>-.yr.<^-Ki.'-..^^^^^ 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 181 
 
 mutton within the house for a month ; the pork which 
 they fed for themselves, being the favorite food of the 
 Canadian habitant, and as for travellers or customers, 
 as mine host designated them, they, during the seven 
 winter months at least, consisted of peasants going to 
 market with a few fowls, eggs, rabbits, or at rare 
 intervals, a trapped fox, or rarer still, a pig; such 
 customers contenting themselves with the warmth 
 and shelter afforded by the bar-room, in which, day 
 and night, a large sto^e was kept as hot as the travel- 
 lers chose to make it. The simple peasants bringing 
 along with them a brown loaf and a chunk of pork 
 sufficient to last until they again reached their frugal 
 homes. 
 
 " Bring me a part of all you have got in the house, 
 said Captain Percy, curtly ; and when the dinner 
 appeared — coffee, milk, pork and eggs — he did ample 
 justice to the coarse fare, notwithstanding its being 
 so different to what he was accustomed. Supper 
 over, he again began to cogitate with himself on his 
 best line of action, under the perplexing circumstan- 
 ces in which he found himself placed. 
 
 " What am I to do ? " soliloquized he — " tied to 
 this half-dead thing, whose life keeps me in constant 
 hot water, besides the expense, which, with my con- 
 founded ill-luck lately, is a consideration, and yet in 
 this country, v/ith their sneaking, cowardly ways, it 
 seems impossible to get rid of her. My ill-luck 
 always follows me ; had I brought her to Spain or 
 Italy, it would have been all over long ago, and no- 
 
 I :-' 
 
182 
 
 THE GRAND GOB DONS. 
 
 body the wiser, and I would have done so, but for 
 Abby. Poor thing, she was so sick of the jabbering 
 on board the French ship we sailed in from Calcutta, 
 that I could not tempt her, by love or gold, to remain 
 in France until my return, or go with us. I had no 
 resource left but Lower Canada, where I knew my 
 wife's infernal whining could not bo understood. 
 There is no help for it, I must just wait until she dies 
 off ; surely it cnnot take long now, and yet I should 
 have paid twelve months board instead of three ; 
 were it only for the peace of mind it will give me, it 
 is better to lose a few dollars than risk having that 
 old witch carry out her threat of bringing Tiny into 
 Montreal, to the Protestant priest forsooth ; a pretty 
 kettle of fish he would make of it indeed, were Tiny 
 brought into contact with, and enabled to unfold her 
 woes to the Protestant priest of Montreal ; and yet I 
 have pei)pered her well with deaths and misfortunes 
 to-day, ha, ha, ha!" and he laughed exultingly, as ho 
 thought of the ready lies which came to his lips, one 
 after another, as he tormented the poor woman who 
 never for a moment doubted that what he told her 
 was God's verity. 
 
 " It would be a slight poser for her to direct his 
 Protestant reverence where, and to whom, a letter of 
 complaint was to be addressed." 
 
 He pulled out his watch, and on opening it, gave 
 a start of pleased surprise. " Ha, it is only six o'clock ; 
 this day has been such a cursed long one, I thought 
 it must have been verging on midnight. I shall 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 183 
 
 order my horse, I have yet time to pay the old 
 ^voman her year's board ; perhaps the certainty that 
 .«he has a year's board in her hands, and will have a 
 livindred dollars to pay her trouble, may make the 
 old witch have less compunction about shortening 
 -the term of Miss Tiny's natural life." 
 
 " Heigh-ho !" added he with a half sigh, " I wonder 
 what Abby is doing, most likely making her bright 
 black eyes snow-blind, gazing along the moon-shiney 
 tin roofs and snow-fields to see if she can discern the 
 voiture containing my unworthy self, returning down 
 the mountain path ; had I only enough cash, w^c 
 might live a jolly life, between shooting in winter, 
 ^nd fishing in summer in this cold Canada, aye and 
 make it pay pretty well too. I have seen skins sold 
 -here for a dollar and a half, that would bring four 
 times that price in worn out Europe." 
 
 In a few minutes he was in his sleigh, skimming 
 lightly along over the hard snowy surface. He stayed 
 iiis horse at the entrance to the bush, and leading 
 Jiim a little off the high road, fastened him to a tree 
 growing by the gable end of a ruined cottage, in 
 such a way that the shadow of the wall thrown by 
 the bright moon, efiectually concealed the horse and 
 carriage from any one passing on the road above, if 
 «uch an unlikely thing should happen as a traveller 
 passing this lonely place at such a late hour. 
 
 Having done this, he plunged down into the path 
 lie had traversed in the morning. The air was milder 
 than it had been then, he himself fortified by food as 
 
 ! 
 
 '!l 
 
184 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 I: 
 
 :-' ■ *1 
 
 ■\vcll as another glass of brandy ; besides he had to 
 exert himself, lest the Indian and his squaw should 
 be in bed ere his arrival. lie gained the cottage in 
 almost half the time it had taken him in the morning,, 
 and lifting the latch, he held up his finger as he 
 entered, to enjoin silence on the Indians. 
 
 " Since I left you in the morning," said he, " I have 
 found that most likely I cannot return for nearly a 
 year, and I have come back to pay you a year's board 
 in advance, so that you may not be at any loss how 
 to act in my absence," so saying, he counted out the 
 bills and placed them in the woman's hand, adding, 
 " I will not disturb my sister by going to see her 
 again, it is late, she is probably asleep." 
 
 "No," said the old woman, "nor is it likely she 
 will be to-night, if she continues weeping as she has 
 done since you left her." 
 
 " Ah," said he, putting on a sad, serious air, " this 
 is always the case ; whenever I leave her, she spends 
 the rest of the day in tears." 
 
 "Yes," said the woman, "I observed when you 
 brought her here, it was so, but now she seems to me 
 to have the face of one whose every hope on earth 
 was gone. Poor lady, it would be well if the good 
 God would take her to Himself, and so young and 
 beautiful ; it was a sorrowful chance that took her 
 mother from the earth and left her here in such sick- 
 ness and sorrow, but I suppose the saints know what 
 is best for us all." 
 
 " No doubt," said Captain Percy, bending his head. 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 185 
 
 solemnly, that the Indian woman might see how de- 
 vout he was, as he walked agahi into the broad moon- 
 light. In another hour, he was seated in his sleigh 
 driving rapidly along through St. Martins, by the 
 Bord-a-PloufF across the Lachapelle bridge towards. 
 Montreal. 
 
 11 
 
 n 
 
 4' 
 
 mi9^ 
 
 {St^ »♦' 
 

 
 :il 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 'HE bright sun rising in the East, his chariot 
 rolling in clouds of amber and gold, the soft 
 dew of Ileayen lying on the grass, the rose- 
 tipped gowan opening her breast that the honey bee 
 may feed there ; the lark singing her song of praise, 
 soaring and singing ; the river running clear and 
 calm, and cool, in its quiet happiness, to pour its 
 loving tribute into the bosom of the great sea, all joy- 
 ous things on earth, as it vv^ere wishing long life and 
 happiness to sweet Mary Seaton on her bridal morn ; 
 this happiness had been long delayed, but it was como 
 at last, she had oeeii tho affianced bride of William 
 Hamilton for eight long years ; her lover was a com- 
 panion in arms of her brother Hugh, and like him, 
 brave, upright and true ; more fortunate than Hugh 
 Seaton, the chosen of his heart loved him dearly, and 
 if fate had willed it so, would have " gone maiden 
 mild " all the days of her life, and counted it naught, 
 for the love she bore to "William Hamilton, or wha. 
 would have been in the eyes of the world, a much 
 greater sacrifice, married him when he was only a 
 poor soldier of fortune ; but Seaton of Thurlow was 
 a thoroughly practical man, and would never have 
 given his consent to his daughter's marriage with 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 187 
 
 one whose means were not amply adequate to sur- 
 round her with the same ease and luxury as his own 
 broad acres enabled himself to do. 
 
 In all those long years of waiting, the faith which 
 Colonel Hamilton and Mary Scaton had, the one in 
 the other, never knew change or wavering, and so 
 what would have seemed long years to another, to 
 them seemed as one day. Now, all was changed. 
 AVilliam Hamilton was, by the death of his uncle, a 
 Uaronet, and the owner of lands, richer and broader 
 ihan those of Thurlow, and while old Lady Hamilton 
 €at weeping for her lord, in the Castle Hall, allotted her 
 us a jointer house, the event which made her a lonely 
 woman, brought joy and gladness to Mary Seaton. 
 
 It is ever thus, in life as in death, that which 
 bringeth light and gladness to one, causeth crushing 
 sorrow, or fearfulness of heart to another, in every 
 phase of life it is the old story ; Rachel rejoiceth, she 
 hath borne a son, " God hath taken away my reproach, 
 the Lord shall add to me another son." Leah mourn- 
 etji, " Now will my husband be indeed estranged 
 from me." 
 
 "With Sir William Hamilton came Major Seaton to 
 share in the marriage festivities and bid good bye ere 
 the regiment into which he had bjrnis own wish been 
 exchanged, departed for Canada. 
 
 They arrived in the early morn ; the marriage was 
 not to take place until noon, and after breakfast 
 which at Thurlow was served at eight o'clock, the 
 bride putting her arm w^ithin that of her elder brother 
 
 •I 
 
 i 
 
;i . 
 
 188 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS 
 
 i' 
 
 M' 
 
 passed through the glass door leading to the sidtj 
 lawn, and hence to a shady walk where the lilac 
 with its fragrant bunches of purple flowers and 
 Laburnum weighed down by its rich golden blossomN 
 met over head ; green mossy grass under foot ; the 
 curling Lady Fern all around. 
 
 " I have brought you here dear Hugh," and she 
 pressed the arm on which she leant, " that we might 
 spend an hour together, ere I take my new name, 
 and go to my new home ; I have so longed to be able 
 to talk with you alone, and since you came from 
 India, it seemed so impossible; Flora and Blanche 
 would come and interrupt what I wished to be an 
 hour of sweet confidence, such as we used to have in 
 the happy days when we were in our teens, and 
 the other girls both at school ; to-day I know they will 
 not follow UG, they are busy with our guests, besides 
 their own kindly hearts will accord to me to-day 
 whatever they think will add to my happiness, and 
 in this green grove where w^e played away so many 
 of the happiest hours of our childhood, and in mir 
 girl and boyhood took sweet counsel together; I 
 want to say all I blame myself for not having said 
 long ago." 
 
 Major Seaton leant forward so as to look into his 
 sister's face, saying in a gay tone, " "What does Mary 
 Seaton wish to say ? I can almost prophecy it is 
 nothing that relates to the welfare or happiness of 
 the future Lady Hamilton ; that I can easily see, is 
 deemed as sure as anything under the lirmament oi 
 
 Ml S: : 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 189 
 
 heaven ; it is about brother Hugh you want to speak ; 
 now tell me unreservedly all you wish to say." 
 
 • 
 
 *' You are right, Hugl^," was the reply, as she placed 
 her cheek lovingly close to his shoulder, •' for the 
 present all is bright sunshine with me, and even for 
 the unknown future as far as I can look into it, there 
 is no shadow up or down the road ; but dear Hugh, 
 I want you to be as hapi)y as myself; I want you to 
 forget all the past that we used to speak about so 
 often ; I want you to seek and find some one of your 
 own to pet, some one who WiIj love you as I love 
 William, with no romantic nor.&ense of adoration 
 and the like, but with the Vonest true love that a 
 good woman, l-^^ing you lor youroclf alone, will 
 delight to bestow on such a na: as you ; I do not 
 think tliat men can j idge of ea< h other as we can ; 
 indeed, indeed Hugh, there are few men, who deserve 
 to be loved as you do, few who could excite such a 
 strong enduring love, you so single hearted, generous 
 and true, and so handsome too, Hugh," she added 
 naively, looking in his face. 
 
 He made no answer, and after a pause, she again 
 said, " Did you observe Lady Blanche Berresford at 
 breakfast ? " Still no answer, and she resumed " She 
 is one of the sweetest girls I ever knew ; she has 
 never mixed in the fashionable world whose teach- 
 ing you dread so much, she is well informed without 
 being a blue; she sings our own songs with the 
 same sweet low voice you vised to admire. She is 
 the friend of the poor or oppressed, from a distressed 
 
 K : i'i 
 
 m 
 
■; I 
 
 190 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 n i 
 
 t i 
 
 i\ ! 
 
 r 
 
 I Hi: I' -i 
 
 follow creature ddwn to a little kitten. She has long- 
 ago left behind ' sweet sixteen' that you despise, and 
 yet she is more mild and guileless than * sweet six- 
 teen ' often is ; every one of the twenty-five years she 
 has passed on earth will each in its way bear testi- 
 mony of good from the recording angel." 
 
 " Stop, Mary," and her brother laughed as he spokc^ 
 *' you are making Lady Blanche better than yourself, 
 and as Sir William's friend, I cannot allow this, par- 
 ticularly as you are the older of the two, by three 
 years ; if Sir Duncan had not died, you w^ould soon 
 have been an old maid, but you in enumerating the 
 young lady's good qualities have forgotten the most 
 attractive in the eyes of men ; she is a beautiful woman, 
 and yet so seemingly unconscious of the fact, so 
 bashful and girl-like that instead of twenty-five, I 
 fancied her eighteen. She will be a Countess in her 
 own right, and will have ten thousand pounds a year '^ 
 think you my dear sister, of the ladder you would 
 have me scale, as well might I * love some bright 
 particular star, and seek to wed it.' You would pre- 
 mise that Lady Blanche and I are both, at least, 
 •short witted'; I to presume to lift my eyes to such 
 * beauty and fortune,' and she, on her part, to marry 
 a poor soldier like me, with little else than his sword ; 
 only your own happiness must hav« turned your 
 head ; do you think, my dear sister, that if I were 
 really the Adonis in other women's eyes, you would 
 have me to be, and my fortune was such as to enable 
 me to ask Lady Blanche's hand, on anything like 
 
 (( 
 
 t 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 101 
 
 equal terms, is it at all likely such a beautiful woinarr 
 with the cultivated mind and heart you describe, is 
 fancy free ? Ah no, were my vanity to lead me on 
 until I laid my heart and hand at her feet, I would 
 merely do so to hear her give me the reply in the 
 old ballad, ' I'm promised awa.' " 
 
 " There, Hugh, you are quite mistaken, she has 
 been my most intimate friend for six years, in all that 
 time, I have never known her to pay more regard to 
 the attentions forced on her, by, I must say, a numer- 
 ous train of suitors, than to show them that as friends 
 they "W ere welcome, as lovers they were repelled ; I 
 have more than once heard her mother say, ' My dear 
 Blanche, your manner is so repelling towards young 
 men, I fear you will remain an old maid.' Iler an- 
 swer invariably being, ' Mamma, old maidism has no 
 terrors for me, I am well with you,' or some such 
 expression.' " 
 
 " My dear Mary," said he, " in your love and ad- 
 miration of your friend, you have quite forgotten my 
 feelings ; with such a beau-killer I would have no 
 chance ; the only position I could possibly hope to 
 attain, would be the unenviable one of having my 
 name placed on the list of her refusals." 
 
 " Oh Hugh, do not trifle in this nonsensical way,'* 
 said his sister in a grieved voice, "I know too much of 
 your heart's inmost desire ; too much of all you suffered 
 in the long ago, to be deceived by such folly. Poor 
 Tiury is now as dead to us all, as she was to you many 
 yeai s since : time must have healed that sore place ia 
 
 m 
 
 k3.i_i^ 
 
192 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS, 
 
 i ' 
 
 your heart, and now dearest Hugh, I will not have 
 you leading the lonely life you do, when I feel almost 
 sure that such dear happiness is within your grasp ; 
 dear Hugh, listen to me ; I once expostulated with 
 Lady Blanche on her refusal ol one who was my dear 
 friend, a titled, wealthy man, whose mind was in true 
 affinity with her own ; her reply was, * I shall never 
 marry unless I find one who is in all respects such 
 as I desire ;' if the closest intimacy during six years 
 in which she w^ithheld from me no secret of her heart* 
 enables me to judge what bent her taste and affec- 
 tions will take, you, dear Hugh, have every quality 
 of mind and heart to win Blanche Berresford. This 
 morning, I asked her at breakfast, what she thought 
 of my brother Hugh, I would not have asked this 
 question so prematurely had I not seen her watching 
 you with a look of more than ordinary interest while 
 you were speaking to Mr. Scott of that frightful night at 
 Delhi, when his nephew was killed ; her reply was, 'you 
 have certainly not in your picture of him overdrawn 
 his outward attractions, he has, I think, the hand- 
 somest face I have ever seen, an eloquent and elegant 
 speaker too, and best of all, not one word of I, me 
 and mine, which we hear so constantly dilated on by 
 most men, he might have been well excused for say- 
 ing I, but he did not even say we, yet his conduct on 
 that m emorable night, is part of the great history of 
 our land, even — she stopped abruptly, as if she had 
 said more than she ought to have done, and turned 
 "with a crimsoned cheek, to address deaf Sir Duncan 
 Grant." 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS.' 
 
 103 
 
 "Without answering, Major Seaton led his sister to 
 ^ little mossy knoll which used to be the favorite 
 resting place in their toilsome play in the blythe old 
 time passed away for ever ; gently seating her, he 
 placed himself so- that he might encircle her neck 
 with his arm, and at the same time, see her face ; 
 after a pause of a few seconds, looking in her eyes, 
 he said: 
 
 " Mary, you alluded to a subject which we agreed 
 long ago should never be mentioned by either of us^ 
 yet painful as are the memories Tiny Grordon's name 
 call up, I am glad you have done so ; you know she 
 was my first love, in my boyhood, when I used to 
 swing you both together in the old swing between 
 those trees," pointing as he spoke, to two great elms 
 seen through an opening in the laburnums, ' you 
 know that after she was a wife, she was dearer to 
 me than many a woman is to her bridegroom, but you 
 cannot know how deeply I loved her when there 
 was a great gulf placed between us forever ; you 
 cannot know how that love grew and grew when I 
 looked upon the j)ale sad face of Captain Percy's 
 wife trying to hide her misery under such sad smiles, 
 assuming a gait and aspect of composure while her 
 heart was throbbing with anxiety and unrest ; you 
 cannot know the pains I took to obtain an ascendency 
 over that low villain whom she called husband, 
 trying for her dear sake to make him walk in the 
 paths of integrity and truth, trying to make him 
 understand that it. was his true interest to be if 
 
 m-^^'^ 
 

 194 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 possible, what he would fain appear, a man and a. 
 gentleman ; and how, as I came day by day, and 
 week after week, to know him better and better, the^ 
 conviction forced itself upon me that all such attempts 
 were perfectly useless the cur was so innately deceit-^ 
 ful and grovelling in his own sordid nature, he could 
 not by any possibility be made to realize the fact that 
 he was in the midst of men who chose the right 
 against the wrong, fearless of consequences ; he was 
 of the earth, earthy, it was in vain trying to make 
 the bat soar towards the sun with the strong wings 
 and sight of the eagle, the Ethiopian cannot change 
 his skin. You know the rest ; I could not remain in 
 Scotland to see Tiny pining away with the * hope 
 deferred which maketh the heart sick,' when I 
 returned I was met by the tidings that she was laid 
 in her grave ; and now dear Mary, as far as this world 
 goes, ' it is better for her despairing than aught in 
 this wide world beside,' but thank God, there is a 
 brighter side, a land where we shall all meet again^ 
 where there is neither marrying nor giving in mar- 
 riage; perhaps Tiny is there." 
 
 " Yes dear Hugh, we know she is there." 
 
 " I am not by any means sure of that, I cannot 
 understand that such a strong faith in Tiny's being 
 still alive would have come to Lady Gordon, and 
 lasted until she closed her eyes in death, unless it 
 was the truth ; God has many mysteries which we 
 do not understand as yet, it is to me less wonderful 
 that such knowledge should be given to a loving^ 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 196 
 
 mother, than that by the power of lightning, you 
 and I, can in a few minutes, communicate with our 
 friends in India." 
 
 " Hugh," she exclaimed in astonishment, " Do my 
 ears deceive me ? you believe in the supernatural ! is 
 Saul among the Prophets ? we will allow for the sake 
 of argument that such a thing is possible ; do you 
 think it at all probable that such a crime could be 
 committed and remain undetected in the nineteenth 
 century ?" 
 
 " Yes, we can commit the same crimes in the nine- 
 teenth century, with all its boasted light and refine- 
 ment, as our fore-fathers perpetrated four hundred 
 years ago ; the only thing which staggers me, as I have 
 thought the matter over and over, almost all my 
 waking hours, since I became aware of the circum- 
 stances, is, what possible object he could have had in 
 view ; it is true, w^e know now, he is married to 
 another, and a sensual unscrupulous man like Captain 
 Percy will stop at nothing to obtain the object of his 
 desire, when he is in love, and certainly there would 
 be less absolute crime in concealing his wife in the 
 wild bush lands of Canada, than in imbruing his 
 hands in her blood, besides he could not kill her, he 
 is the veriest coward I ever knew, and so supersti- 
 tious that I have seen him turn pale with fear, and 
 unable to move hand or foot, by a ghost trick on All 
 Souls Eve. Captain Percy is a reckless man, but he 
 is at once covetous and extravagant, and in reporting 
 his wife as dead, he lost forever, the large sums Lady 
 
196 
 
 THE OEAND GORDONS. 
 
 Gordon yearly sent her daughter; he must have 
 known she only endured him for the love she had for 
 Tiny, and with her death such remittances would 
 cease ; this is ihe only thing which undermines my 
 faith in Tiny's being yet alive, but dear Mary, we 
 have talked long enough on this sad theme. This 
 day is, I trust, the beginning of new happiness as 
 well as the beginning of a new life to you, and 
 we must not cloud its morning by a retrospective re- 
 view of the saddest story belonging to our kith and 
 kin. We will now go home, it will soon be time 
 lor you to seek the aid of your tire woman, that she 
 may adorn you for your bridal ; may every blessing- 
 attend you ; one w^ord more, my dearest sister, my 
 boyhood's playmate, the friend and cotifidenle of my 
 youth, never speak to me in this way again of Lady 
 Blanche or any other lady, if you love me as you 
 used to do." 
 
 The brother and sister walked in silence, hand in 
 hand,ui> to the Hall, ascending the grassy slope,towards 
 a postern door, in a wing of the building which con- 
 tained the young ladies' apartments. 
 
 Major Seaton pressed his lips to his sister's cheek 
 as he handed her inside, he himself retracing his 
 steps towards the laburnum covered walk, that alone 
 there, he might calm down the troubled thoughts 
 which his conversation with Miss Seaton had given 
 rise to. 
 
 Alas our poor human nature ; man born to trouble aci 
 the sparks fly upward ; who that saw the firm step, the 
 
 ■\ ' ■ 1 
 
 ilr 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 197 
 
 penetrating intellectual eye, the pleasant smile, could 
 ever imagine that beneath this calm exterior, lay— a 
 waste of waters— a tideless sea— death in life— the 
 on coming years rolling their silent waves over the 
 by-gone trouble— only a drear out looking— a hope 
 long delayed, a wish he may not pray— a wearyful 
 prayer for patience— how many of us have such 
 stricken hearts, yet to all, God's sweet comfort cometh 
 from the far-off land, telling of a clear day, and bear- 
 ing a promise of peace and life when the waters have 
 passed away. 
 
 It was a grand bridal in the house where the 
 Seatons of Thurlow had dwelt for centuries, and 
 although with the exception of the first bridesmaid, 
 Lady Blanche Berresford, all the guests claimed 
 kindred to either bride or bridegroom, yet the large 
 old mansion was crowded in every corner, and when 
 all were assembled in the grand-drawing-room, (a 
 room only used on account of its great size for occa- 
 sions of high festival,) it seemed a matter of doubt 
 whether a passage could be made sulFiciently wide 
 to admit of the bride and her maidens passing to 
 the upper end of the room, where on the dais, the 
 clergyman, the bridegroom, his groomsmen, and the 
 nearest relatives of the bride and bridegroom were 
 already waiting their appearance to commence the 
 ceremony ; however, when at last the bride was led 
 up by her father, her six bridemaidens following in 
 her train, not a fold of the soft white satin dress, nor 
 of the lace veil which enveloped her like a cloud 
 was ruffled. 
 
198 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 Lady Blanche stood opposite Major Seaton, and 
 impelled perhaps by the conversation of the morning, 
 he regarded her with more interest than ho was 
 accustomed to bestow on any face however fair ; their 
 eyes met, while his were intensely fixed upon her, 
 the deep blush which overspread her face and neck, 
 on observing the earnest gaze with which she was 
 regarded, the dark eye lashes which almost lay on 
 her cheek as she cast down her eyes that she might 
 avoid his glance, her slight girlish figure and pale 
 hair, according so well with the simi)le whHe muslin 
 dress without ornament, in which she was attired, 
 forming a picture so different from all by whom she 
 was surrounded, elicited from her observer the mental 
 exclamation, 'how beautiful!' and as he still continued 
 to gaze, unconscious of the pain he occasioned to the 
 object of his admiration, his second thoughts were 
 * how like Tiny !' not the pale sad Tiny he last 
 saw, but the beautiful child and graceful girl he 
 remembered so well and loved so dearly in every 
 phase of his life, in the long past ; she who together 
 with his sister Mary and himself had passed so many 
 sunny summer hours beneath those elms, which 
 looking through the window, beside which Lady 
 Blanche stood, he could see slowly waving their long 
 drooping branches to and fro, as if they too felt a 
 solemn trouble, and moaned for the beautiful whose 
 feet would never again press the grass beneath their 
 shade. 
 
 It was no fancied resemblance, Lady Blanche in- 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 199 
 
 •deed looked and moved like Tiny, and moreover, 
 ^hen she spoke or sung, her voice was low and 
 «weet like Tiny's ; Mary Seaton was well aware ol' 
 the resemblance, but she named it not in her converse 
 'with her brother, she had reserved this which she 
 was sure would be observed as a coup-de-main to gain 
 his heart by the force of old associations. She had 
 miscalculated sadly ; every grace and motion, every 
 sweet sound that spoke of Tiny, only stirred the old 
 thoughts that hung about his heart, as a light wind 
 will stir the withered leaves which many storm& 
 liave been unable to tear away. 
 
 Major Seaton was startled from his reverie by the 
 solemn words, " "Whom God hath joined let no man 
 put asunder ;" there was no Mary Seaton now, those 
 last words had made her Mary Hamilton for life, for 
 death, and good and true as the man was they had 
 given her to, those words fell with a sad sound little 
 short of a funeral knell on the heart of her parents, 
 they had now resigned for evermore into the charge 
 and keeping of another, she whom God had given 
 to them, and their son Hugh's heart felt as if a sharp 
 sword had pierced it through ; the last time he heard 
 those words, one dearer to him than sister ever was, 
 liad thrown aside her maiden gladness, and had taken 
 xip a life which was henceforth to be marked by a 
 quickly beating heart, a wearyful unrest, and for 
 what ? for the shadow of a shade ! 
 
 f » 
 
1 ; 
 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 
 :i 
 
 t 
 
 ■;■ 
 
 I : ' 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ''E, that is Mrs. Campbell, her childron, Sandys 
 Mitchell and myself started from Portland 
 J ^xl>§) for Montreal, at an early hour. I was very 
 pleased to find that Sandy had made an arrangement 
 with Mrs. Campbell to go to her daughter's farm 
 which was in the vicinity of Montreal, and work 
 there for at least some weeks after his arrival ; this 
 would - give him time, as he said himself, to look out 
 for a situation without incurring the expense of pay- 
 ing for his board ; to me it had another good feature, 
 Mrs Campbell described her son-in-law as being a 
 steady, industrious man, and a cheerful, happy fellow^ 
 who kept all around him in good humor. Such a 
 companion would be invaluable to Sandy ; with his 
 proclivities, going into a boarding-house, such as he 
 could pay for, would have been most dangerous, 
 and in this arrangement I saw an answer to his 
 father's prayers. 
 
 The two clergymen w^ho were our companions de 
 voyage on board the steamer, were also to accompany 
 us to Montreal, and as I entered the cars, Doctor 
 Leatherhead politely arranged the seat in front of the 
 one he was seated in, and asked me to occupy it ;. 
 
 % it I ' iil 
 
K 
 
 III 
 
 iifi 
 
 m 
 
 \ t 
 
"'"■ "HAND oonnoNs, 
 »;« "".l I wore ,,„i,., ,o'd w '^""■•''"'^•"- •••« -'Khoun.,. 
 ;"" tlu, other ladies ,„;17,.'^<"''<' '"" '"'=..4 tl.at 
 «o«f. a remark o„ the wi ,d!.. 1" ''";"' "'"'■'""- "'■ "* 
 
 «odiatoly following h ^ Tt,:''" ''"''''■'• '""' '">■ 
 ''■mseJi-; they were ratll.®"""'- "''o «"ne,l 
 ol-the our« being very m„ 1 ^''''''"°"'' ^■~'" "•'^' i-et 
 
 ^1 Y't^ t,.y ilunTird" aSrt/" "'"'^"'^"™- 
 'culaily the lady with W ""'" '"^<'"'' l'«r- 
 
 '"^t. by the aid of Z i .""""^ ''""'".■«, bnt „t 
 «ome others who hadladeir ' ,"'"' ""'■^'"I «" 
 ~' rather an extensivTseVe "i:-'"^'' -'"i-tabie. 
 tiey obtained a seat a litUew T' '""*' "'°«'-"'y. 
 front of where I sat. I waVrf. ""'"' ''^"^^ *" 
 saw the new comers were clI ""'"'■''>' "'^«» ^ 
 
 I knew the determinalTw^ h t"'.;";». '^''^- ^-ey. 
 had remsicd Lady Gordon's wt^rl C'aptain Percy 
 tor's body disinterred Z C^„^: ^'^ t'' "»"=?'>- 
 
 toT't'",r"=^ there havingtisT ''"' '"'' 
 to him by Mr. Morton • his snhc represente.l 
 
 give all facilities in hi power Sr?"* •"'^'^'""-t to 
 were worth nothin- now wV ^""="""5 the body, 
 Percy was buried in Montrll . T^"^' ^'^ ^'^^ 
 ^e so vehemently eC^t i^--- 
 
 fl 
 
 
i"^ i 
 
 t 
 
 
 202 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 1 
 
 going to India, evidently showed there was some- 
 thing to conceal ; Lady Grordon had, to her dying 
 moment, construed this into strong confirmation that 
 her daughter yet lived ; I, myself, entertained an idea 
 that Captain Percy had a secret which the disinter- 
 ring of Mrs. Percy's body would divulge, and that 
 should his wife tell him who I was, and by any 
 means he suspect for what purpose I had come to 
 Montreal, he would not be scrupulous in the means 
 he might adopt to prevent me from fulfilling the 
 vow I had made to Lady Gordon. 
 
 "With such thoughts passing in my mind, it was no 
 w^onder I kept my eyes fixed on my fellow travellers ', 
 I had no means of concealment ; I was seated vis-a-vis 
 to them without any means of escaping their obser- 
 vation, and the black crape veil I had worn since 
 Lady Gordon's death, I had most unfortunately laid 
 aside, lest the dust of the railway cars should spoil it. 
 For the first few minutes, they were, to my great 
 surprise, evidently in extremely bad humor with each 
 other, a feeling which on Captain Percy's side was 
 expressed in sitting cross-legged with his back turned 
 as complefely to his wife as the seat would allow, 
 while his face sullen and forbidding, told a diflferent 
 iale, to what it had done the first time I saw them 
 together ; his wife did not content herself with 
 anything so undemonstrative, but on the contrary 
 continued to talk with rapidity, and even push him 
 with her elbow, as if she wished him to give her 
 more place on the seat, he occupying at least three 
 
1? 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 203 
 
 parts of the same while she and hor various packages 
 had the third ; to her appeals whether of voice or 
 touch, Captain Percy paid not the slightest attention, 
 until the poor young woman seemed to be working 
 herself up to a perfect frenzy, when fortunately 
 ♦Sandy Mitchell who was in the com partment between 
 her and me, attracted most likely by her voice, 
 turned round and seeing her uncomfortable position, 
 immediately got up and arranged her various en- 
 cumbrances in the cradle over head. 
 
 The lady being now seated a little more com- 
 fortably, settled her skirt, arranged her sack and 
 collar, pulled the bow and strings attached to her 
 bonnet into better order , produced from her pocket 
 a spotless cambric pocket-handkerchief (the embroi- 
 dery and lace of which even at the distance I sat 
 from her, I recognized as having seen before I ever 
 saw the one in whose possession it now was,) and 
 a. gold vinaigrette. And now having made all her 
 preliminary arrangements and seated herself as com- 
 fortably as possible under the circumstances, she 
 began to look around, her eyes almost at once fell 
 "upon me ; I was instantly recognized, that was very 
 evident, and equally apparent that the unexpected 
 appearance was fraught with anxiety to her ; she 
 gave a furtive glance at her husband as if she would 
 see whether he had also seen and was aware of who 
 I was, but as his back was towards her, any desire 
 of information in that way was futile ; meantime I 
 regarded her with the look of one who had seen her 
 
 ■■p 
 
 '-t + *•* 1 
 
 . J. 
 
204 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 !i| ■. • r I 
 
 for the first time. • After the lapse of a few miniitos, 
 she seemed to realize that I did not recollect who 
 she was, or else that she herself must have been 
 mistaken, yet for the first hour of our journey, she 
 continued to cast anxious and wary looks towards 
 where I sat. 
 
 When we stopped for breakfast, Captain Percy and 
 his wife were seated so close to me that I could hear 
 every word they said ; he began his morning repast 
 by w^alking up to the bar and swallowing a large 
 glass of brandy; this had evidently molilied his 
 temper somewhat, as he courteously seated Mrs. 
 Percy before he sat down, and presently both were 
 busily engaged in doing justice to the viands set 
 before them, and making smart remarks on those 
 around. 
 
 " Do you know any body here ?" enquired Mrs. 
 Percy. 
 
 " Not a soul," was the reply of her husband, as he 
 gave a glance round the table. 
 
 "Do you «ee that old-maidish looking thing in 
 black ?" asked she in a whisper, directing her eyes 
 towards me as she spoke. 
 
 *' Yes, what of her," was the reply. " Are you 
 jealous ? She is such a beauty, I should not wonder;'* 
 and he laughed, looking good-humor edly in her face,. 
 as he spoke. 
 
 " No, I dont think I have any need," she replied, 
 laughing, " but it seems to me as if I had seen her 
 before." 
 
■^ 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 205 
 
 *'Possibly you have, l3ut if so, y ou have the advantai^e 
 ol me, she is some Scotch quiz or another ; she is of the 
 same p«rty as that old Scotch grandmother and her 
 son ; you see they all sat down to eat together, it is 
 a pity there is no porridge here for them." 
 
 This elicited another laugh from the lady ; they 
 were now in great good humor with each other, and 
 she in particular, relieved by finding he had not re- 
 cognized me as one of Lady Gordon's household, in 
 which case he might have addressed himself to me, 
 and thereby the danger incurred of my repeating 
 any of the conversation which took place between 
 her and myself in Kay's Hotel. 
 
 The brandy which Captain Percy took at break- 
 fast had a double effect ; it not only made him good 
 humored then, but it had a soporific tendency, so 
 that a short time after, when w^e again set off on our 
 journey, ho slept soundly. 
 
 The certainty that I was unknown to Captain Percy, 
 and the uneasiness which his wife manifested on see- 
 ing me, were both cause of congratulation, because 
 taken jointly, he was not at all likely to find out my 
 errand to Montreal ; 1 could keep my own counsel, 
 unless those of whom I must make enquiries in order 
 to find the grave, no one need know wherefore I 
 came. 
 
 Captain Percy awoke just as we arrived at our 
 last stopping place in the United States, a miserable 
 place called Island Pond, where we were to take 
 dinner ; poor man, it was pretty evident he wanted 
 
 ■«,il 
 
 ^■:3 
 
 4 U 
 
1\ 
 
 I I 
 
 |.| 
 
 lii 
 
 206 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS 
 
 another glass of brandy — the first effect of his morn- 
 ing dram having passed oflf — the reaction had now 
 come, and he was again in a sulky mood ; we had to 
 ascend a long staircase, almost like a broad ladder with 
 a bannister at each side, I fancy there must have been 
 at least forty or fifty steps, yet Captain Percy never 
 once offered his assistance to his wife, in the ascent, 
 but sullenly stalked on in front, leaving her to follow 
 as she best could ; however, he had recourse to h's 
 panacea of the morning, and I found with like effect. 
 I was seated opposite to them at dinner, and then 
 had the opportunity, which I miis .ed in the mornings 
 of seeing how he fed ; on this point, 1 was a little 
 curious ; I never saw a man of Captain Percy's dis- 
 position and habits who was not a large eater, and I was 
 pleased to have an opportunity of seeing whether my 
 theory would be carried out in his case ; it was most 
 fully ; plateful after plateful of fish and meat disap- 
 pearing, then pudding, cheese, cakes, and last of all, 
 several cups of tea, an addition I had never seen 
 made to the dinner table before ; I however found 
 it in common use in Montreal, and ere I left Canada*- 
 became so accustomed to its use, as to fancy I had no 
 dinner unless tea was served with the fruit. Captain 
 Percy was certainly one of the largest eaters I evf^r 
 saw, so enormous was his appetite that he was himself 
 conscious he ate more than other men, which is very 
 seldom the case ; most great eaters do not know thoy 
 eat more than others, or affect to think they do not, 
 but his consumption of food was so great as to utterly 
 preclude the possibility of his deceiving either him- 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 20T 
 
 self or others, so he made the best of it — he joked at 
 his own gluttony — calling on his wife to take no! ice 
 how w^ell he w^as getting the worth of his money^ 
 but the lady had again relapsed into the fretfulness 
 of the morning, and replied by a very curt " dont 
 bother me." It did not require the wisdom of Solo- 
 mon to see that these two had found each other out. 
 
 By some re-arrangement in the cars when we 
 returned from dinner. Captain and Mrs. Percy were 
 placed in the compartment in front of where I sat> 
 but with their backs turned towards me. 
 
 Long ere we arrived at Montreal, Mrs. Percy 
 demanded of her husband in accents far from mild, 
 where they were going to live during their residence 
 in Montreal ; to her first, nay even to her second and 
 third enquiry, he deigned no reply, at length, perhaps 
 w^orn out, he replied in a gruff voice : " The St» 
 Lawrence Hall." 
 
 *' Oh ! I am so glad," replied she, I do hate those 
 two-penny half-penny places, one never has anything 
 decent to eat, and as to me I always ieel afraid of 
 having my clothes soiled in their dusty greasy looking- 
 parlors." 
 
 He was sitting with his back turned towards her 
 as in the first part of the journey, but on her making 
 the above observation, he turned round and lookinjr 
 her full in the face, asked very quietly : " Why do 
 you go to such places then ? I should suppose there 
 is no necessity for your doing so." 
 
 T 
 
 .;■.-* I 
 
 i m 
 
 
 ii 
 
I" T?l 
 
 !|ti 
 
 !| '! t 
 
 208 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 " IIow can I help it when you take me there ? I 
 am sure I never would choose to go was I not obhged 
 to," was the reply. 
 
 " That matter can be easily arranged," returned he 
 in the same feigned calm lone, as he had assumed 
 belbre, " You iu>ed only to pay the Hotel bill from 
 the fortune you brought me, inherited through the 
 Couritess your mother, and I shall willingly take 
 you to the most expensi^'e Hotel wherever w^e go.*' 
 
 " Fortune !" replied she, with a sneer and in a 
 louder accent than was advisable surrounded as 
 they were by strangers ; " You got too much 
 when you got myself, when you hud a Countess' 
 daughter, you did not enjoy her much or use her too 
 well either if it comes to that," and then in a lower 
 tone : " If I had known then what I know now, I 
 would not have been here to-day." 
 
 " Devil," was the muttered answer, as he turned 
 his back upon her, usurping as much of the seat as 
 possible. 
 
 *' There's one of us a devil, that's sure enough," 
 was her rejoinder in the same low" and cutting tone 
 as before. 
 
 He replied by humming an air from Robert le 
 Diable, in Avhich recreation he indulged until the 
 conductor opened the car door and announced " Mon- 
 treal." 
 
 I had determined to avoid the hotel w^here Captain 
 Percy said he was to go, although that w^as the one 
 the Reverend Doctor had advised me to remain at 
 
THE GRAND OOBDoj^s. gOS 
 
 ""« «on.iu.Javv o.m« i,,„L """*'"'" '^ daughter 
 
 '"o'hor, I requested them 1 nn' T *° ""''' «'«'*•• 
 
 han the St. Lawrenc, to J : r ' ^ "^o'"' """"r 
 
 hoy dM, and Mr. Cl"™; ^ ^ol ""''" >^'^' *'« 
 
 ;o call a eab (o brin/;";:,," r. ^^ """" "' "'"''' 
 
 Ottawa. I we„t to the Z! '^ ^"'""ST* *<> 'he 
 
 :'t war, as to whether.ht Ij, ' ""^ ^rs. Percy' 
 ;■' A« cars „„til he had oS.r ''""''' "°' ^''■"»"» 
 Jookod after the ]„5g.„„„ . ■tt""\'^ eonveyanoe and 
 
 «''•''•. a« I had setrct. ; a^'^.f "^^"^ ^'''"'^d i'ow- 
 carerehewasbyav-side-T , "' "^<' J"ff8-a..e 
 
 ;» *e p,atformi„7oo i Jro^n'' "»^ "" --^t 
 *m"fa and two small vali es "I""'"^'' *'^^oiii»S 
 *o be put into the ba.^™' roo,„' '"f ^ ^^ '^''^-eS 
 cabman, J'o deli.x-red t^lTe u-o v ' ^"'' *■>""'? to a 
 y had he done so, when Mrs p''' '" ''"" ' scarce- 
 loaded with her band-boV b- si ^^^"' ^^^''^ -Je. 
 <>nee understood that her trx' ,^m ""i^ *'"^''« -• «»'« a 
 Httnuo the baggage room nd^ "''^ '?"'^^ '•"'I been 
 agamst such a proeeedin" s , ."-"*'',"«'™'ed strongly 
 to wear the drosses eon ai;,e7>" *'"' *« '■«<l»>-d 
 move from the Platform '^f*^^^; «"<^ ^-""M not 
 *™»ks. Captain Percy ZTTI ''"'' <*»« of *he 
 ;he would most likely Li CO d^/r''^'''' '»«=-h, sa,d 
 trunk, as the cheeks we eli f'"*'"'""*^ tor the 
 <1><1 not intend to trouble Lwii'/T'^^'o" and he 
 - Wei where he wouM mSLw nS '™»'^^ "> 
 
210 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 a day or two; and turning round, cooly followed 
 the cab-man who carried his valise. Poor Mrs^ 
 Percy stood for a second or two looking after her 
 husband, as if she could scarcely believe her eyes,, 
 and she expected him to return, but no, he kept on 
 the even tenor of his way ; so, as she saw it was very 
 evident he would not come back, she hurried after 
 him as fast as her various packages would allow, first 
 however declaring in tones which showed she had 
 no wish to make secret of her words. " I'll make 
 short work of this ; I'll not put up with it muck 
 longer." 
 
 It seemed a mystery to me how two who appeared 
 so fond of each other, only a few weeks before, could 
 live such a snappish, quarrelling life now. God had 
 not joined them, it was too apparent. 
 
 I had a comfortable bedroom that night, and an 
 excellent breakfast next morning at the Ottawa Hotel. 
 After breakfast, I asked to see the landlord, and re- 
 quested him to direct me to a good boarding-house, as 
 I intended to remain some weeks in Montreal, per- 
 haps longer, and would like more privacy than a 
 house on so large a scale as his afforded. He at once 
 pointed out to me an advertisement in a daily paj)er, 
 where the advertiser wished for one boarder to reside 
 in a private family This was just what I wanted ; 
 and taking the number of the house, and the name 
 of the street, I, by the aid of a cabman, soon arrived 
 at the residence I sought, a good sized house with larg& 
 trees in front. I was ushered into a room neatly and 
 
 I if I 
 
THE OEAND QOEDONS. gll 
 
 plainly furnished, wherp f«.„ 
 
 "Other, a portly w^^a "!"« to'l" 7" "'''^' *''*'' 
 business which brouo-h T 1 *° "*« »» t^e 
 
 e"and, and for a K ,2 f' ^ '"''^ ^^o' «/ 
 by looking rae ove asTi^^ «be merely answered 
 
 7' by „y appearance wiXf;:';^ ""»"'" '"^^ 
 of person she would li L. 7 u ' ^ '*'''*' t^* «ort 
 
 J-t bavin. f.nisl>:d , 'Zj:"' L"'" '^<"'^<^-' ^* 
 repelling tone- "' """y' *'^« ^'^M "i rather a 
 
 rent, and so I wo Jttahet! "''' "'"' ^ ^"7 a large 
 
 A« «he concluded . •^""' ""''"'' ^''"'^■' '•""'"•s '' 
 
 evidently e,;:St^lTttf '''T'' ^'•o™ ^er seat, 
 
 tban I either could'or would ;L "'^'^'' ™^ »<- 
 
 except when they h^d S tl L"'"'"" *<"''^ J"'''''^. 
 I was partly p.e/arecf fo ttco , " ^"'""''"•<'"' ^o 
 .^.th, but the house was clenn f '"'"'P*'''" ^ ^et 
 MS.- Ae, herself and the w„'"^''T''"^'*'''e loot- 
 perfect respectability; and so I r'^'t ^"^ "' ''" of 
 to give her house a tr!al r ! f''' ''' P-'^^'ble, 
 strangers, and the voice of the '"' "^ "°"^'^'J '<^ 
 wd the comely pleasr,! ill T"" '" ^'<=otch one> 
 abome -und'and o f ^taS T°'*'' ^'^'^^-^ 
 
 ---udpay,.e,oVTmrs;jri- 
 
 1l 
 
 Mi 
 
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i 
 
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 u 
 
 If 1 
 
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 ^u 
 
 212 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 SO I felt sure the seven now asked was in order to 
 frighten me away from the house, but it had the con- 
 trary effect. I saw she was particular about who 
 she would take into her house, and this was exactly 
 what I wished. 
 
 I too rose from my seat, sayinj^, " T will give seven 
 dollars cheerfully, if the room you have to let suits 
 me ; will you show it to me ?" 
 
 " I'll do that," replied she, in not a whit more 
 pleasant tone than before, "but," added she, "you 
 must pay before-hand, and by the week." 
 
 " I shall certainly do so," was my answer, " I could 
 not expect you to take a stranger into your house 
 on any other terms." 
 
 My words seemed to open a new sluice by which 
 I might be turned out, and she quickly rejoined, "but 
 I cannot take any one, whatever they pay, without a 
 reference." 
 
 I colored as she spoke, and seeing I was hurt, she 
 added in a half conciliatory tone — 
 
 " I don't kno\v you and you don't know me, so I'll 
 give you a reference, and you'll give me one, and that 
 will be satisfactory to both." 
 
 I had in my pocket book a certificate of church 
 membership from the clergyman whose ministrations 
 I attended on at Leith ; it was enclosed in a letter 
 addressed to a minister of the Free Church, in 
 Montreal, so I at once handed it to her ; on looking 
 at it she colored as much as I had formerly done, 
 
T 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 213 
 
 lor 
 Id 
 
 and as she returned mo the missive, said iu a gra- 
 cious tone and a changed manner, " That is enough ; 
 this is our own minister's name, I will show you tluo 
 room and if you like it, you can come." 
 
 Leading the way from the room and up the stair- 
 case, she reverted to the caution with which she at 
 first received me, saying — 
 
 " You see I don't keep boarders, it is more for 
 company than anything else, and so I have to be 
 very particular in choosing who I will take." 
 
 I acceded to this with a good grace, telling her it 
 was just such a place I wished to live in, and so 
 saying was ushered into a good sized bedroom looking 
 to the front, the windows of which w^ere shaded by 
 the trees I noted on my arrival ; everything in the 
 room was scrupulously clean and neat, and I at once 
 agreed to take it, offering her two sovereigns that she 
 might pay herself for the first w^eek, requesting per- 
 mission to bring my trunk and at once instal myself 
 in my new domicile ; this was accorded, the lady a 
 second time informing me she did not keep boarders, 
 she only wanted one for company as the girls some- 
 times felt lonesome. I assured her I felt favored by 
 her selection of me, and at once departed in search 
 of my trunk from the Ottawa. 
 
 By noon, I was comfortably seated in my own room, 
 in Mrs. Dunbar's house, (such was my landlady's name) 
 employed in writing to grandpapa, Ella, Marion, and 
 Mr. Morton, informing them of my safe arrival iu 
 Montreal, telling the latter that Captain Percy was 
 
 I 
 
 
..;!■. 
 
 in . 
 
 214 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 
 
 also there, and that in consoquenco I would observe 
 as strict a reserve as possible on the su)>ject of my 
 business in Canada. 
 
 Towards evenint^ the Misses Dunbar accompanied 
 me to the post-office, afterwards taking me through 
 the principal streets and squ.aros, so that I. might 
 havG an idea of the place I was to sojourn in for at 
 least six weeks. The city was })eautiful, everything 
 looking so clean and fresh ; the streets lined with 
 trees on either side ; the squares enlivened by gardens 
 in the centre, with fountains throwing up their waters 
 to give a coolness to the air ; the sun brighter and 
 the sky more clearly blue than any I could hope to 
 see in Scotland ; yet, even in these, the first hours of 
 my arrival, I found myself calculating which trip of 
 the vessel I had come out in, I would be able to 
 return by. 
 
 How little are we masters of our destiny ? Had I 
 known the " woe and watching waiting for me down 
 the road,' I fear my faith, strong as it was, would have 
 failed me, and I would have returned whence I 
 came, bearing the reproach of my own conscience 
 all my life long ; ^x^ it was, if I suffered, God brought 
 me out of all my trc able, strengthened and purified, 
 and by the expc:irnce of a woe that nearly made me 
 crazy, He gave me sympathy with those whom 
 otherwise I would have ever passed by as the Levite 
 did of old. It also made me very careful in passing 
 judgment on others, no matter how appearances were 
 against them, and it showed me as nothing else 
 
THE ORAND OOUDONS. 
 
 215 
 
 ) tl 
 
 conld, that it was a small thini^ to be condomnod of 
 moil's judgment ; and a})Ove and hoyond all, by that 
 sore Irilmlation I was pfiven sight for I'aith; when all 
 else had utterly failed, when everything which money 
 could do or man's ingenuity suggest, proved helpless 
 to aid me (as the thistle down to cover and shelter 
 from the fierce wintry wind, the poor naked wretch 
 who lies dying by the wayside), then my Father 
 ^^ hich is in Heaven stretched forth His hand and took 
 irie from the fearful pit and the miry clay, making 
 luy righteousness clear as the noon-day. 
 
 riotween six and seven o'clock, we had tea, which 
 in Montreal (in boarding-houses at least) is called 
 supper, and so it may. It is not a cup of tea and a 
 piece of cake, as we have in Britain, but a hearty 
 meal, consisting, besides tea and coifee, of fruit pies, 
 A'arious kinds of cakes, meat, and occasionally pota- 
 toes. I stared in wonder when I saw all the good 
 things provided, but this is really necessary, where, 
 :as in Montreal, the dinner is served at noon-day, and 
 there is no other supper. 
 
 Mrs. Dunbar accompanied me to my room on my 
 Tctiring for the night, and there took an opportunity 
 of asking me whether I knew if any of the others 
 who accompanied me from Scotland to Montreal 
 lequired board, as she had still another room unoccu- 
 pied, at the same time again deprecating the idea of 
 her keeping boarders. This latter fact she did not 
 lail to impress on me at least once a day during my 
 Tesidence in her house. Poor woman, during her 
 
216 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 ;. 'ti 
 
 U 
 
 I : ^ 
 
 husband's life time she was in rather affluent circum- 
 stances, and now that it was necessary to work for 
 her own and children's living, she felt above the 
 only business which seemed to aflbrd her a prospect 
 of so doing. We so often feel like this when a little 
 reflection would tell us that no matter what is our 
 occupation, provided it be honest and upright, we 
 ourselves are unchanged, and that it is our own 
 conduct and character that can lift or abase us in the 
 eyes of those whose good opinion, friendship or 
 acquaintance is worth cultivating. 
 
 Mrs. Dunbar, before bidding me good bye for the 
 night, informed me that I would be well protected, 
 as she and her daughters slept in the room to my 
 left, while her son Ralph, an ungainly looking boy of 
 from sixteen to eighteen, whom I had the pleasure 
 of seeing at tea, reposed on the right. I had very 
 demonstrative evidence of this latter fact an hour 
 later. 
 
 I had just put out my candle and got into bed. 
 when I heard Mrs. Dunbar call out in no under tone. 
 
 " Ralph, are you in bed ? " 
 
 " Cei tainly, I'm in bed," replied the boy, " where- 
 would I be ? " 
 
 " Is your light out ? " 
 
 « Yes." 
 
 " Are you sure of that ? " 
 
 " Certainly, I am." 
 
 Instantly a heavy flap sounded through the silence^ 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 21T 
 
 as if of bare feet jumping out on the floor, then a slip- 
 shod running past my door and into the boy's room, 
 with a half shocked loud exclamation of — 
 
 '* Well, now Ralph, how can I ever believe a word 
 you say ? " 
 
 " Why, mother ? " in a tone of surprise. 
 *' Because you told me your lamp was out." 
 
 "AVell, and so it is," laughing loudly at his own 
 wit. " You asked me if I was in bed, and I said yes ;. 
 and then you asked me if the light was out, and I 
 thought you meant out of bed, and 1 said yes, too; if 
 you had asked me if my lamp was extinguished, of 
 course I would have said, no." 
 
 " Where is that novel you were reading ? " asked 
 the mother. 
 
 " Why, mother, you know I never read novels," 
 was the reply. 
 
 " No," said the mother, " I know no such thing ;. 
 you read novels every night when you go to bed, and 
 I am determined to put a stop to it in future. I have 
 told you y j-undred times, I would have no reading 
 in bed and this is the last time IT leave a lamp with 
 yoa; T.Ml take it away before "^ go to bed myself,'^ 
 and tJieii the slip-shod feet passea my door in regaiu- 
 ing tht ir own room. 
 
 Thi.i little scene was re-enacted at least three times 
 every week, each time the mother declaring that she 
 would remove the iiirup I pforo j^oing to bed in future, 
 and thereby prevent th*^ d;inj?,fcT which she incurred of 
 
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■m 
 
 * ! ' 
 
 218 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 taking cold by (what she called) her midnight visits 
 to his chamber. 
 
 Next morning, at an early hovi^, I called on Doctor 
 Balfour, the clergyman to whom 1 hid an introduc- 
 tion from our own ministei, and first delivering my 
 credentials, I explained to him the rer.son of my visit- 
 ing Montreal, telling him a : the same time of my 
 encounter with Captain Percy on the cars, and the 
 necessity that I conceived there was there fori ct 
 making my enquiries as to the place of Imria.- ..'sir,- 
 terring of the body, etcetera, as privately ac j oseib't. 
 
 Doctor Balfour fully concurred in this, advising me 
 at the same time, as Captain Percy had said in my 
 hearing, that he was only to be a few days in Montreal, 
 to delay any proceedings whatever in the matter, 
 until I had ascertained the fact of Captain Percy's 
 departure, adding — ' f 
 
 *' I much doubt whether you will be able to have 
 the body disinterred without his special permission. 
 The body was interred as that of his wile, hence, I 
 hardly think it will be possible to have it exhumcf'. 
 without an order from him." 
 
 I told him that this difficulty had been thought 
 over and as far as possible i)rovided against; that I 
 had in my possession documents from the lirst Lutho- 
 rities in Edinburgh, to the gentlemen in office here, 
 requesting that the body might be delivered into my 
 charge, and in case this should fail, I had orders J? 
 «end a cable telegram to Mr. Morton, "'vho, if need 
 
 
 i 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 219 
 
 ; i» 
 
 it 
 I 
 
 m 
 
 \'.j 
 
 be, would himself come to Canada to efl'ect the re- 
 moval of the body, if I was unable to do so. 
 
 Doctor Balfour seemed lost in thought for some 
 moments, and at last said — 
 
 " You tell me that Mrs. Percy's death preceded 
 that of her mother by a whole year, how did it come 
 about that some one was not despatched long ago to 
 disinter the body ere it had become so dangerous as 
 it must be now ? unless that it had been interred in 
 u leaden coffin, a precaution which is not always 
 taken." 
 
 I then explained the circumstances to him more 
 fully, dwelling jiarticularly on the fact that Lady 
 Gordon never believed in the account given of her 
 daughter's death, and that until within a very few 
 weeks of her demise, she constantly looked forward 
 to her own restoration to health and strength, enabling 
 her to take upon herself the task of finding her 
 daughter. 
 
 Doctor Balfour was evidently deeply interested, 
 nnd putting his hand across his eyes, continued so 
 for several seconds, and then questioned me closely 
 as to whether Lady Gordon's faith in her daughter's 
 still being alive never wavered ; I answered in the 
 negative, assuring him that on the contrary we knew 
 by her ladyship's face, and the signs that she gave 
 after her tongue had lost all power of utterance, that 
 her belief in her daughter's being still alive, and her 
 
 desire that she might be sought for, were if possible 
 more intense than ever. 
 
 *?■? 
 
220 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 n 
 
 The doctor paused a longer time than before, and 
 then with an earnestness of voice and manner which 
 I remember distinctly at the present moment, although 
 it is now in the long ago, said, " I will help you by 
 every means in my power to discover the i)lace 
 where Lady Grordon's daughter is interred, but 1 
 believe I will be helping you to no purpose were 
 you to find the grave to-morrow, my firm belief is 
 I »re will be no body there, or if there is it will not 
 b ■' »ody of Lady Gordon's daughter. The world 
 wiik !^ things therein; the cloud of witnesses, that 
 unseen are yet constantly round about and minister- 
 ing to us, is the same in this nineteenth century as it 
 was when the hair of Job's flesh stood on end, and the 
 horror of great darkness came upon him. This con- 
 viction so strongly impressed on Lady Gordon's mind, 
 could not have been born of her own thoughts ; her 
 child had been ailing for soi^ie time, and had been by 
 your account always a delicate tenderly nurtured girl, 
 hence she was prepared to hear of her death at any 
 time, but when it came, a conviction came with it 
 that the report was false. You may find the living 
 breathing, Mrs. Percy, but her body, — no." 
 
 I stared at the doctor as he spoke, scarcely know- 
 ing what to make of it, and then asked him — 
 
 " What is your advice ? What would you have 
 me to do?" 
 
 " You will, in the first place," said he, " ascertain 
 that Captain Percy has left Montreal, and having 
 done so, I, myself will accompany you to the varioutJ 
 
lU'i 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 221 
 
 Hi 
 
 places where deaths are registered ; we will, at once 
 see whetJier such a name is recorded there. So far, 
 your work is easy ; to find the living woman is a 
 matter of far greater difficulty. There is no likelihood 
 of her being in Montreal, and the country districts in 
 Canada are so scattered, particuhirly among the 
 Prench population, where it is most likely he would 
 hiwe placed her, he havii.g brought her here at first,by 
 his second wife's account, to prevent her being able 
 to communicate with those who spoke her own 
 language, that seeking for her there without any clue 
 to her whereabouts would be a hopeless task indeed; 
 however, when you have all other preliminaries set- 
 tled, I will talk over the matter with some of the 
 French priests ; it is possible that she may be dis- 
 covered through them, if not, it is a hopeless case." 
 
 I left Doctor Balfour's house, wondering that a 
 learned man, and above all others, a Presbyterian 
 minister, could entertain the idea for a moment, that 
 the visions which floated through Lady Gordon's 
 brain, were aught else than a waking dream; how- 
 over, I determined to do as he had directed me, at all 
 ovents, in the early part of the programme which he 
 had laid out, and as it was still too early to ascertain 
 Cai:)taiu Percy's whereabouts, I set myself to find a 
 dressmaker, and have the clothes made, which, but 
 for the haste of my departure should have been done 
 in Scotland. 
 
 About a week after my arrival in Montreal, I went, 
 accompanied by Miss Dunbar, to the St. Lawrence 
 
 i E 
 
w 
 
 222 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 '!IS 
 
 W: 
 
 Hall, to ascertain if Captain Percy was still there, and 
 was directed by a person I saw in the hall, to a clerk,^ 
 who was the one who best could give all information 
 as to the visitors. 
 
 " Are Captain and Mrs. Percy still here ? " 1 en- 
 quired of the young man in question. 
 
 " Who, ma'am ? " asked he. 
 
 "Captain and Mrs. Percy," replied 1, repeating- 
 my former words. 
 
 " There is no such person here,'* was the reply, 
 " you have probably mistaken the hotel." 
 
 I was sure this could not be the case, and I said so. 
 ' I I^L^ard Captain Percy direct the cabman to drive 
 to the St. Lawrence Hall, as I was stepping into the 
 cab containing my own luggage." 
 
 " That is extraordinary," said he, " as there is no 
 such name in our visitor's book for a month past, I 
 am sure, but to satisfy you, I will look it over from 
 the day you mention," and opening a large book, he 
 ran his eye and finger down several columns, but all 
 to no purpose, there was no such name to be found. 
 
 "Perhaps the hotel was too full, and you could not 
 admit them," suggested I. 
 
 " Oh no," replied the man, with a smile, " we have 
 at least a hundred unoccupied beds ; our busy season 
 has not commenced yet, but it is possible Captain 
 Percy may have changed his mind before he reached 
 the house, and gone to another hotel." 
 
 I saw the feasibility of this, and at once directed 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 22a 
 
 my steps to the Ottawa, but only to receive the samo 
 answer. Miss Dunbar spent the whole day in ac- 
 companying me to every hotel where it was at all 
 likely a gentleman would live, with invariably the 
 like success. It was quite evident Captain Percy 
 was not in Montreal, and in my own mind, I came to 
 the conclusion that the amiable man, to annoy his 
 wife, had brought her to some of the villages in the 
 vicinity of the city, at all events, he was not likely to 
 cross my path. 
 
 It was late in the evening ere we returned home, 
 and I was pleased to find that although Mrs. Dunbar 
 was still declaring she did not keep boarders, she had 
 ' added another inmate to her establishment.. The 
 young Presbyterian clergyman who crossed the 
 Atlantic with mo the week before, had seen and 
 answered her second advertisement, and been ac- 
 cepted as I was. During the two days I had passed 
 in her house, she took me so far into her confidence, 
 that I now knew she was the widow of an officer, 
 and the daughter of a clergyman, and like many such, 
 on the death of her husband, found that she had not 
 sufficient to buy bread for herself and children ; slie 
 had tried many ways of making a living for them — 
 taught school ; went out to teach ; took in sewing ; 
 all in succession, had failed of supplying the need, 
 and now as a last resource, she had taken in a few 
 boarders to make the two ends meet. 
 
 I found that Mr. Denham, the young clergyman, 
 "was to occupy a small room at the top of the stair- 
 
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^24 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 \}\ 5 
 
 ir 
 
 r.\u 
 
 cise, and in consideration of this, his hoard was to ho 
 only four dollars. As the good woman told me this, 
 she said innocently — 
 
 " I got seven dollars from you so easily for one of 
 ihe front rooms that I thought I would have got five 
 for the one ho is in, but he told me at once he was 
 poor and could not afford to give more than four, and 
 he stayed so long and praised the room, saying it 
 was just such a one he wanted, that I know he 
 wished to come. It is not every day a poor woman 
 like mo has it in her power to do a good turn, so T 
 ihought I would just t'^ke him, he looked so tired 
 like ; perhaps he was worn out searching for a place ; 
 when I told him, he should have the room, he said, 
 * I am A^ery glad, your house is just what suits me, 
 I want to be where there are no other boarders.' " 
 
 " But," said I, " how will this be ? I am another 
 boarder." 
 
 " Oh !" replied she, " I told him thcYe was a young 
 lady living in the house, but that she was like one of 
 the family, so he made no objections to that, and how 
 could he ? Do you think he can choose where he is 
 to board at four dollars a week, and beef costing 
 twenty-five cents a pound ? That puts me in mind of 
 the bill I have to pay the butcher ; I am sure, I hope 
 I will have another answer to the advertisement to- 
 morrow, and that I'll get a good price for the other 
 front room ; it's a terrible life this, li-sang from hand 
 to mouth, and the two girls working as hard as if 
 they had been some poor man's children." 
 
 M :\ 
 
 *;■ 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 225 
 
 Some sad reminiscence came over the poor woman, 
 ^and she had recourse to her handkerchief. I com- 
 forted her the best way I could, saying, I had no 
 doubt she would have another boarder to-morrow, 
 mid that in a few years, her son would be a man and 
 able to help them. 
 
 " Yes indeed," she replied in a cheerful tone, " It 
 is only for a time, und I am very glad I took the 
 minister, it is so respectable to have a clergyman in 
 the house, I'll try and get him to keep family worship, 
 and then when we get the house full of boarders, 
 they'll be awed down and kept quiet by having a 
 minister among them." 
 
 As she left me, I smiled at the alacrity with which 
 I had answered her advertisement for one boarder, 
 in a house where no others were kept. 
 
 Next morning, I went at an early hour to see 
 Doctor Balfour, informing him of my non-success in 
 hnding the dwelling place of Captain Percy. He 
 agreed with me in the idea that that gentleman had 
 gone to one of the villages instead of the St. Law- 
 rence Hall, adding that most likely he was now in 
 Ottawa, which owing to the government being there 
 was a more suitable place for a gay man and an 
 •oflicer like Captain Percy. 
 
 Doctor Balfour at once offered to accompany me to 
 make inquiries of the proper officials, so as to ascer- 
 tain the registration of Mrs. Percy's death, but in this 
 "we were wholly unsuccessful. It is of no use giving 
 u detailed account of the various places we went to 
 
 »! 
 
226 
 
 THE OBAND €JORDONS. 
 
 [■^ < 
 
 IH 
 
 - <H 
 
 for the purpose, suffice it to say that the whole of tho 
 forenoon, and for several hours on two succeeding^ 
 days, every register we had access to was carefully 
 searched, no name, such as Percy or Gordon could 
 he found. Of the latter, indeed, there were three 
 men of the name, scattered throughout the various 
 registers, but a woman's name of either was not 
 there. Doctor Balfour seemed rather pleased than 
 otherwise, at the result of our investigation, repeat- 
 ing his conviction that Mrs Percy was still in the 
 land of the living ; be that as it might, there was no 
 sign of her death having taken place in Montreal. 
 
 AV^hen our search w^as wholly finished, Doctor 
 Balfour accompanied me to the door of my boarding 
 house, and before he left me, said — 
 
 ** Now, if you take my advice, you will try 
 another means of finding out the object of your 
 search, you will spend at least several weeks in en- 
 deavoring to find a clue to the living woman. I will 
 send you a directory, and by it you can divide the 
 town into sections, take one each day, and go to every 
 French house, taking them consecutively as they 
 come. Do not pass one, from an idea of its being the 
 residence of people who are above taking strangers 
 into their houses ; do not pass one, because it looks 
 mean, we do not know the springs of action which 
 influenced Captain Percy in coming here ; w^e can 
 only judge from the accounts given by the young^ 
 woman you met in Edinburgh, that his motive was 
 to conceal his wife, and prevent her from correspona* 
 
 i.j ■■ 
 
1 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 227 
 
 inp with her friends ; on the one hand, his own 
 position as an ofhcer, a man of good family, and son- 
 in-law to a lady of rank, may have given him the 
 entree into families which to one less favored by cir- 
 cumstances would have been denied ; on the other 
 his own proclivities may have led him to select for his 
 purpose, people of a very low grade, such being em- 
 ployed as mere tools, so that neither high nor low 
 must be left without such investigation, as you are 
 enabled to make ; I would avoid all mention of the 
 lady's death in every case, not even hinting that such 
 a thing had ever been suspected ; I can give you no 
 further directions, you may probybly have to adopt a 
 different phraseology with every separate man aiid 
 woman whose house you enter, your own judgment 
 must be your guide, but I have such confidence in 
 your obtaining by this means some information 
 which will ultimately lead to the discovery of the 
 lost one, that were I an adept in the French lan- 
 guage as you are, I would accompany you in your 
 investigations an hour or two every day." 
 
 I had little hopes of eliciting any information 
 from such a course of proceeding, I did not view the 
 matter in the light he took of it, yet I had signally 
 failed in my first efforts; the pi.;* I had formed 
 before leaving home under the counsel of those 
 lawyers whose life study was to find out the secret 
 things that men commit, thinking to hide them from 
 the eye of their fellows forever ; my own judgment 
 was quite at fault ; I was out at sea without sail or 
 
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 228 
 
 THE GTIAND OORDONS, 
 
 [MM I 
 
 oar ; the doctor was one Avho had resided manv ion*? 
 
 r» 
 
 iM 
 
 ■i •■ 
 
 years in Canada, his experience was laro-er, his Judg- 
 ment more mature than mine, and 1 resolved to try 
 his plan, at all events until I could communicate with, 
 and hear from Mr. Morton, and so it wa; 'Jed 1 
 should begin my work in this way next morning. 
 
 Mr. Denham made a great improvement to our 
 family circle at Mrs. Dunbar's ; lie consented to her 
 wish that he would conduct family worship in the 
 house, and seemed to take such an interest in herself 
 and family, that I felt in the event of her ol)taining 
 more boarders, her having given him the room at a 
 low rate was a wise speculation on her part. Mr. 
 Denham spent his evenings entirely in the house, 
 and had always something amusing to teP "»{' what 
 he had seen, or heard, or read, during the ( when 
 I got the directory ho helf)ed me to make my lists 
 of French houses in each street, although he had not 
 the most distant idea for what I was going to A'isit 
 these French people ; some years previous he had 
 been in Montreal as tutor to the children of one of 
 the richest men in the city, and consequently knew^ 
 the position of quite a number of those better French 
 families which were on my list, and by the informa- 
 tion thus gained', I hoped to profit in making my 
 inquiries, but alas, the task set me was anything but 
 a pleasant one, the poorer people seemed to like the 
 little gossip my inquiries called forth, asking me all 
 imaginable questions about Captain Percy and his 
 wife, of which if I had answered only the one-half, 
 
 a !: 
 
 15 
 
THE OUAXD (iOPwDONS. 
 
 229 
 
 liskMKMl ill letuni to hall' tho 'oh's' and 'ball's' which 
 would jiavo boon uttorod in reply, it would have 
 most lik<'ly taken mo a year to complete my iuvesti- 
 jjialious , as it was, I lor several weeks went out day 
 by day, traversing the streets from morn 'till eve 
 with no better success than resulted from my lirst 
 attemi)ts to discover Mrs. Percy's death ; living or 
 dead, it seemed impossible to find the slightest trace 
 of her in Montreal ; many of whom I made inquiries 
 told me of English ladies who had lived in their houses, 
 turned sick and died , or who had come to them, 
 recovered and gone home, to the United States, or 
 Upper Canada ; but of Mrs. Percy, no one had ever 
 heard. I was getting utterly heartsick and weary of 
 such a useless life , wandering about for nothing, and 
 when at last it was over, although it left me without 
 other employment at least until Mr. Morton's letter 
 should arrive, I felt thankful that I might remain in 
 the house. 
 
 The day after I had finished looking for Mrs. 
 Percy as alive, when I had convinced Doctor Balfour 
 that nothing more could be done, I wrote again to Mr 
 Morton, telling him the result of my second search^ 
 and begging of him to suggest some other way in 
 which I could employ my time for the furtherance of 
 the cause I had taken in hand ; I was perfectly at a 
 loss how to proceed, and unless some line of conduct 
 was pointed out to me, I must sit with folded hands. 
 
 I was very tired of the aimless life I was now lead- 
 ing. Ever since my mother's death, when compari- 
 
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 m 
 
 i: 
 
 . 
 
 11 
 
 1 4 
 
 
11 
 
 i i 
 
 I' Hi 
 
 
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 ^i:Mii 
 
 t^m 
 
 230 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 tively speaking I was little more than a child, I had 
 led a life of activity, a life in which my hourly minis- 
 trations were necessary to some one for a specified 
 purpose, a life in which were T to leave the duties of 
 the hour unfulfilled, some one, other than myself must 
 sufier loss ; my habits of concentration and industry 
 had thus been trained to the utmost, and now when 
 there was no need for the exercise of either, my spirit 
 seemed to have lost its spring ; I do not think I was 
 ever so many hours weary, as in that long" week — 
 how that week makes me pity those who not only 
 spend a week, or a month, or a year, but all their 
 lives long in the same listless, vapid, aimless way — 
 and while writing on this subject, words which I 
 heard a good man utter long ago, come to my mind 
 so clearly I am tempted to write them down — 
 
 ""Would that all young women would look for- 
 ward to, and prepare for the duties God has designed 
 them to fulfil ; love what lie has commanded, desire 
 what He has promised, that all would endeavour to 
 train themselves to be good and obedient wives, 
 tender and wise mothers, diligent and prudent heads 
 of families. Do those things which God has ordained, 
 and keep to them faithfully until life shall end ; in 
 the cares and anxieties as well as the comforts of 
 domestic life, ' with humility and spiritual joy, bear 
 the sweet yoke of Jesus Christ, hoping all things, 
 retailing no scandal, refusmg even to listen to it, stir- 
 ring up no strife, but appeasing wrath, pouring oil 
 on the troubled waters, and speaking peace amid 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 231 
 
 •every storm. Be sober in dress ; it is not womanly 
 to assume a style which suggests the pride which 
 apes humility, this frequently arises from a desire to 
 attract attention, a motive which everv wise and 
 modest woman should eschew, if there is vanity in 
 being at the very height of the fashion of the day, 
 there may also be much of the same feeling in lagging 
 too far in the rear of harmless customs.'" 
 
 " In the midst of a world God has clothed so beauti- 
 fully, and decorated with so much grace, it would be 
 almost a libel on Him, to be careless as regards attire, 
 but let not dress ever divert from duty, absorb the 
 thoughts, unfit for proper occupation, be inconsistent 
 with the station of life in which God has placed us» 
 involve expenses out of proportion to orr income, 
 thus depriving us of the means of ministering to the 
 ^'^ants of others." 
 
 " But while we neglect not the body, we must still 
 more endeavour to cultivate the mind. The entire 
 imiverse of knowledge is open equally to woman as 
 to man, but only in a few cases, do capacity, inclina- 
 tion, and circumstances concur, so that it is not 
 ])ossible, even were it desirable, that women in 
 general should be learned, but they may be fitted to 
 be companions of those who are so, by being sensible, 
 intelligent, and well informed." 
 
 ** This however cannot be, if the chief reading of 
 woman is to be the trashy fiction of the present day, 
 sensational novels, and the superficial, ephemeral, 
 <lesultory contents of many of our numberless perio- 
 
 1? 'H 
 
 ifj 
 
 T \4 
 
232 
 
 THE GRAND GOEDONS. 
 
 t > \ 
 
 I 1 
 
 dicals ; it would be folly to say, read nothing but the? 
 Bible and religious works, but God's word is, ' Search, 
 the Scripture ;' let no day pass without the G^rious^ 
 prayerful study of the word of God- Let all works, 
 of imagination be well selected , be such as will 
 refresh and refine as well as amuse. Read instructive- 
 authors, the history of nations as well as individuals, 
 the wide realms of nature, the j eat master pieces 
 of the genius of all ages, furnish an inexhaust- 
 ible field for profitable study. Acco?7iplishments 
 which refine the taste and give real pleasure to our- 
 selves or others are not to be neglected, yet much 
 time and money is often worse than wasted in the 
 futile attempt to acquire that lor which there is no 
 natural taste, far better is the accomplishment of a. 
 mind stored with varied knowledge, of sound judge- 
 ment, and of refined taste, capable of taking an 
 interest in general conversation, in surrounding facts 
 and in the events and opinions of the day. There 
 are works also, from which no wealth however great^ 
 no rank however exalted, should exempt a true 
 woman. Look well to your own households, leave 
 not everything to others. The mistress is ultimately 
 responsible for her domestics, see that they do their 
 duty and do not by negligence tempt them to indo- 
 lence or dishonesty which may bring disgrace to both 
 mistress and maid. A well ordered household, shows, 
 a well ordered mmd at the head of it. Attend also 
 to the welfare of domestics, see to their bodily wants^ 
 their reasonable recreation, their spiritual improve- 
 ment, be their thoughtful friend as well as their 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 233 
 
 careful mistress, vigilant over their comfort as well 
 as their conduct. Thus by a well regulated house- 
 hold, a well informed mind, by cheerfulness and love, 
 render home delightful, the happiest place to husband, 
 elder sons or brothers. This is no mean object to 
 live for, but every Christian woman may find time 
 to do more. Gather in neglected children from tho 
 street, and in the Sabbath school, visit the widows 
 and fatherless in their affliction, read to the blind, sit 
 by the bedside of the sick, minister to their bodily 
 wants as far as you are able, and tell them of tha 
 Great Physician of souls." 
 
 '-I 
 11 
 
 
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 ►•<Hfc3 
 
 -ffMV'i<m- 
 
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 I II ii> wtr i,_ '^i 
 
 <:S| 
 
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 CHAPTER Xlir. 
 
 And the night pometh wet with dew, 
 Oh Father, let Thy light shine through. 
 
 ^VER a year from the time of Captain Percy's 
 last vi«it to Isle Jesus, he was again driving 
 along the same road, and with the same end 
 in view, namely, to ascertain whether the angel of 
 death had relieved him from a wife whom he had 
 detested from the day he found she would not yield 
 herself subservient to be a mere tool in his hands 
 for extracting money from her mother. 
 
 On the former occasion, his driving was fast and 
 furious, at present he gave reins to his horse, seem- 
 ing as if he would delav the visit, in case it should 
 bring him the certainty that his wife still lived, 
 "while he now knew that he had no means to pay for 
 hor board, and that part of his object in visiting St. 
 Martin's, was to relieve the Cure of the money to.be 
 paid to the farmer, in case of her death, if it was 
 jstill in his hands. 
 
 Since his last journey on this road, he had led a 
 stirring and checkered life, at one time spending 
 nearly all his waking hours in the gaming saloons 
 ^i Baden Baden, from which he had been ignomini- 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 235 
 
 ously expelled, having been detected in an attempt 
 to cheat with loaded dice, an extra pack of cards, or 
 some such help to which men resort when 'the 
 honor among thieves' has departed from them. At 
 another time, trying his fortune in the hells of Paris 
 and London, and when those broad roads to ruin had 
 entirely failed him, leaving Abby, the companion of 
 all his w^anderings (and who still conceived herself 
 the wife of an independant gentleman) in London, 
 he went down to Westmoreland to make another 
 sponging attempt on the pockets of his sisters and 
 aunt ; his uncle being too much a man of the world, 
 not to see clearly enough that ' poor Bertram's * 
 want of success was entirely owing to his own idle 
 and expensive habits. On this visit, he was not so 
 successful as usual, finding only one of his sisters at 
 home, and that one the most obdurate of the three, 
 the other two having gone to make the tour of North 
 Oermany, with a party of friends, and hence com- 
 pletely beyond his reach, besides, he well knew that 
 the uncle, who was their guardian, would not, while 
 they were travelling, supply them with much loose 
 cash, lest they should be tempted into extravagances 
 which he did not approve. 
 
 He contrived to spend three miserably dull days 
 in his old home, and on taking his departure under 
 the plea of attending to the business which had 
 brought him to Britain, found himself scarcely a 
 hundred dollars richer than when he arrived. 
 
 •m 
 
 On his leturn to London, he found a letter from 
 
236 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 r^lJlHi!:! 
 
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 Mr Morrison (who hoped as Captain Percy's agent 
 to come in for a few pickings), informing him of 
 Lady Gordon's death, and as we have before seen 
 hastened to attend the funeral, contenting himself, 
 however with being present at the reading of the 
 will. The reader already knows how much satis- 
 faction that afforded him. His return to Montreal 
 where he was known simply as Mr. Smith, was neces- 
 sary, that he might ascertain the much to be desired 
 fact of Mrs. Percy's death ; besides in a Colony aflbrd- 
 ing more facilities for such conduct than he could 
 hope to have with the strictly enforced laws of Europe, 
 he might live for a year or two by a carefully 
 organized system of leaving his trunks at railway 
 depots, etcetera, passing from one boarding house 
 to another and from one city to another, without 
 paying any board, a plan which would leave him at 
 liberty to spend the few pounds he could scrape in 
 loans from relatives or acquaintances, in again trying 
 his fortune on a small scale, in billiard and card 
 rooms, and even if the worst came to the worst, and 
 he must enter into some employment as honest men 
 do to gain their daily bread, such a proceeding in a 
 Colony, would not be so utterly derogatory to the 
 character and standing of a gentleman, as would be 
 the case in England. 
 
 As he drove along, his thoughts went back to 
 Lady Gordon's death, and her most unnatural will 
 as he called it, inwardly cursing the laws which could 
 permit a woman to dispose of her property as Lady 
 
 4- 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 237 
 
 Oordoii had done, beggaring her son-in-law, her 
 natural heir. Driving along in this mood, he avoided 
 the little auberge he had formerly entered, making 
 for the residence of the Cure, that he might ascertain 
 whether the money placed in his charge was still 
 untouched, hoping yet, fearing that it might. In the 
 <'ase of his wife's death, his crime of bigamy was 
 buried in her grave, he was again a free man, he 
 might resume his own name when he pleased, a 
 thing he had never dared to do in Montreal since his 
 departure from New York, in order to immure his 
 wife in a living tomb. On the other hand, if she 
 was dead, and in consequence the money had left 
 the Cure's hands, he had not a dollar left to pay for 
 the horse and vehicle he was now driving, and what 
 was worse, before his departure in the morning, his 
 landlady had warned him that unless he paid his 
 board before the night set in, she would turn himself 
 and his wife out on the street ; he was getting to be 
 known as one who never paid a dollar he could 
 avoid, and for the past week, Abby and he had in 
 vain searched for board where the people would 
 wait for payment until the end of the month, when 
 he said his money would arrive from England. He 
 had deceived so many with the hope of receiving 
 those imaginary bills which were to come and yet 
 never did come from England, and one hard work- 
 ing woman had told another, until it seemed to him 
 as if every hotel and boarding-house in Montreal 
 was closed against him. 
 On arriving at the priest's house, the Cur6 in- 
 
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238 
 
 THE GRAND QORDONS. 
 
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 formed him that the money was still in his hands^ 
 and immediately paid it over (one hundred dollars) 
 to its owner. 
 
 Although he knew now that the old fear of detec- 
 tion must still hang around him, that he must still 
 have nights when he would suddenly awake in the 
 darkness, with the vision of the grip of justice so 
 strong upon him, the long years of penal servitude 
 so vividly portrayed, that for some minutes it was 
 no dream of the night, but stern, horrible reality,, 
 yet so much are we the creatures of the present, 
 that those few dollars in his pocket made him feel 
 once more at ease, and wheeling his horse round to 
 the auberge, he threw the reins to the landlord, 
 ordering a dinner and a glass of brandy to fortify 
 him for his long walk, and the scene that must 
 ensue in his interview with his wife. 
 
 Having satisfied his appetite, Captain Percy had 
 recourse to a cigar, which had its usual effect of 
 softening dowm the sharp edges of angry feeling 
 against all and sundry which his naturally irrascible 
 disposition constantly called into play ; at present 
 he needed its influence more than usual, and aware 
 of this, indulged in a larger portion of the weed, as 
 well as a longer time of repose after dinner than was 
 his wont. Captain Percy was not a lazy man, he 
 was only an idle one ; he liked action, but he hated 
 work ; he wanted excitement, not repose ; and now 
 having put body and mind in as comfortable a state 
 as circumstances would allow ; having done all for 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 23^ 
 
 himsel/he possibly cotild, he prepared fof his journey 
 on foot, to arrange it so that others could minister to 
 him also. He was sick of the state of apprehension 
 which must be his, while his wife lived, and he was 
 also tired of those long walks into the bush, fertile of 
 trouble and annoyance, and then the money, he was 
 getting very short of that, and little as it was that had 
 been spent on his wife for the past two years — if it had 
 been a difficulty before — where was it to come from 
 now ? This was a question he had asked himself many 
 times, since the day on which he had listened to the 
 reading of Lady Gordon's will ; until then, he always 
 buoyed himself up with the idea that arrange it as 
 she would, he could in one way or another, lay 
 hands on part of his children's inheritance. All 
 hope of this was now past forever, and he must 
 make the best of things, bad as they were ; the 
 money now in his pocket would ward off the pre- 
 sent difficulty about his boarding-house in Montreal, 
 and in three days, the British mail would be 
 delivered, giving into his hands a letter from his 
 sister A.licia, containing a hundred pounds; he knew 
 it must be so, he had written to her in terms which 
 he was aware w^ould enlist all the sympathy of her 
 nature in his favor — the craving, servile hound had 
 at last descended to beggary — the words so sure ta 
 draw forth this hundred pounds were : ' Dear Alicia 
 — the money is wanted to buy bread,' and he calcu- 
 lated that should the money he had taken from the 
 Cure be spent in paying for his board ; in a day or 
 two, he could again be in a position to pay for Tiny'» 
 
 i 
 
TT 
 
 
 240 
 
 THE ailAND OORDO>S. 
 
 i 
 
 ,.i ( 
 
 funeral expenses, with a few pounds taken from his 
 sister's remittance. He journeyed along in a quieter 
 frame of mind than before his dinner, yet it was 
 necessary he should frame some excuse for not pay- 
 ing the Indian at present, which he had no intention 
 of doing , he knew that these people were both 
 needy and avaricious, so that he would have some 
 difficulty in persuading them to wait for a few days ; 
 on the other hand, had he taken the money from the 
 Cure, without going to see them, they would no 
 doubt hear of it, and it would be sure to lead to 
 w^hat he most dreaded — his wife being taken into 
 Montreal, to one of the English priests, as the Indian's 
 wife had threatened to do before — ' Well,' said he, 
 soliloquising, as he approached the cottage, ' I must 
 leave it to chance, surely something will turn up 
 that will give me an excuse for taking the money,' 
 and something did. 
 
 On opening the door as was his wont, he found 
 the front room empty, whereupon a little relieved 
 by the absence of the Indian and his wife, he straight- 
 w^ay made for his wife's chamber. She sat in the 
 window, exactly as she had done on his last visit, 
 only that instead of being asleep she was occupied 
 in reading her Bible ; attracted by the sound of his 
 foot step in entering, she looked up, a smile illumi- 
 nating her face as she stretched out her right hand 
 towards him, saying — 
 
 " How strange you should come to-day. I dreamed 
 of you last night ; look Bertram, I can raise my right 
 hand." 
 
 » 
 
lit 
 
 THE GRAND ttORDONS. 
 
 241 
 
 " So 1 see," was his rejoinder, the words uttered in 
 n voice and manner which fell like ice npon her 
 lieart. " It would be better for you and me })oth you 
 were dead, instead of able to use your right hand. 
 "Where are the old people ?" 
 
 " They have gone to the other end ot the bush for 
 wood, and will not return for some hours," was the 
 reply, the emotion which his speech had brought to 
 her heart, flushing both cheek and brow scarlet. 
 
 " I am thankful for that ; it is a little relief ; I have 
 no money to give for your board now, nor do I know 
 if I ever will again ; I have been obliged to take 
 away the money I left with the Cure for your funeral 
 expjnse ; it is very strange you should have lived so 
 long, and I am sure it is not desirable for either your- 
 self or your friends." 
 
 *' Bertram," replied she, with a composure which 
 surprised herself as she spoke. " It is useless to 
 reproach me with living, you are well aware I do not 
 wish to live, why should I ? I live a living death, 
 unable to walk about or communicate in any way 
 with my kind, why should I wish to live, now that 
 my baby, my last hope on earth is dead ! Bertram, 
 baby died two months since, and with her passed 
 my last hoj^e on earth. Oh ! how gladly would I go 
 and follow my mother and children where there is 
 neither sorrow nor parting," opening the Bible she 
 liad in her hand, she held it towards him that he 
 might see on the open leaf a bright golden curl, 
 
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 242 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 addiiij^, " That is one of baby's curls, I cut it off for 
 you, Bertram." 
 
 IIo took no notice of the curl, never once moved 
 to take it from her, and ignorinfi^ the fact of his child's 
 death, which he now heard for the first time, he 
 replied — 
 
 " If you really wish to die, nothing is easier ; I have 
 here what will send you to your mother and your 
 children in less than a minute after you swallow it ; 
 and I give it to you to save you from a lingering 
 death, by cold and starvation, which I plainly see 
 staring you in the face ; the contents of that bottle is 
 the best friend you have on earth ; I will come back 
 in a few days to see you buried ; I hope you will 
 be dead when I come." 
 
 He was gone ! and Tiny knowing now but too 
 surely that all hope for her in this w^orld was dead, 
 that the bitterness of death Tvas past, leant over the 
 little table, gazing with wild sfiiring eyes on the 
 great temptation which lay under them, with her 
 right hand so lately paralyzed she lifted up the 
 accursed thing murmuring softly : 
 
 " It is an easy way out of all my trouble." As she 
 yet spoke, a black cloud enveloped the cottage as 
 w^ith a shroud, a fierce wind swept round and round 
 bending the strong trees like saplings, tear m ^ them 
 by the roots, while peal on pen^ o- ,iq the awful 
 thunder as if some great rock . a^ en hn ' been 
 
 crushed by the mighty power oi >d, av I the debris 
 hurled down by her side, the zigzag lig itning passed 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 248 
 
 through roof and walls as if commiKHioiiecl to con- 
 sume — the voico of God speakinjCf to her in His 
 thunder as clearly as to the Hebrew prophet, '• Thou 
 shalt not kill." 
 
 In the old time, Margaret Gordon used to fear the 
 thunder, and would listen with beating heart and 
 pale speechless lips to its mighty voice ; now she sat 
 calm and composed amid the war of elements ; she 
 felt that the God whom her fathers had worshipped 
 in their far off Scottish mountains had stretched forth 
 His arm to save her from a great crime which it 
 might be the loving Christ Himself could not forgive ; 
 Her eyes fell on the open Bible and she read there 
 the blessed words, having a significance in them 
 which to her they never before possessed. *' Be thou 
 faithful unto death and I will give thee a crown of 
 life, " and as she read, the faith in Jesus Christ and 
 the Holy Spirit she had been taught in her childhood 
 by her mother's knee, and in her girlhood from the 
 pulpits of the Land, came back with all its sweet 
 comfort, clothing her soul with light as- with a 
 garment ; and folding her hands on her bosom which 
 for many a long day before she could not have done, 
 she bowed her head in the presence of the Great 
 God, who ruleth the Heavens and the earth and all 
 things that are therein, and although her lips moved 
 not, yet the answer of her soul in all humility went 
 up to God's footstool. " By Thy help, oh my Heavenly 
 Father, and with the aid of Thy dear Son my 
 Redeemer, I will keep Thy commandment." 
 
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 244 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 The wind had ceased, the storm had passed away ; 
 and although at intervals large drops of rain fell 
 with a heavy sound on the green leaves, telling of 
 a thunder shower, yet the sun shone out again, and 
 the glad birds as they hopped and Hew from bough 
 to bough, chirped and sung their song of praise to 
 Him who made them, and gave them this green earth 
 in its beauty for their abiding place ; the stricken 
 trees as they still shivered from the efl'ects of the 
 Giant whirlwind, scarcely daring to stretch them- 
 selves to their full height yet, held out their long 
 arms as if in grateful expectation of the promised 
 rain. It came at last, as all His promises do come 
 whether written, so that he who runneth may read, 
 or exi^ressed by the voice within which God hath 
 given to each one of us ; came in His fulness, as if 
 the fountains of the great deep had been oi)ened. 
 The sun was obscured, not hidden, and the rainbow 
 hung high in the Heavens, as it first spanned the 
 firmament to comfort Noah, and as it will comfort all 
 God's people until the day when there shall be no 
 more sea. 
 
 Tiny's worn out frame felt the influence of the 
 hour, and as she lay back in her chair, with closed 
 eyes and folded hands, her lips and thoughts formed 
 themselves into the prayer of her childhood, that 
 prayer which the dear Christ left for all his woe 
 stricken children r, " Our Father which art in 
 Heaven " — 
 
 " He giveth His beloved sleep." Tiny slept soundly, 
 
 m 
 
 I • i 
 
li i>i 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 245 
 
 undisturbed by the patterinjL^ rain or the twittering 
 ol' the birds as they tried to settle themselves 
 in some sheltered nook beneath the dripping boughs. 
 Suddenly she was startled by hearing her name, 
 " Margaret, ' called aloud by her mother's voice, 
 and opoiiiig her eyes she saw her mother standing 
 by her side ; her iirst thoughts were, " I must have 
 passed into the spirit land," but no ; there were the 
 cottage walls, the little table, the open Bible, and 
 that terrible blue bottle, and pointing to the latter, 
 Lady Gordon said, '* Margaret, the great tempter of 
 your life has been here, but greater is He who with 
 the temptation can send a way of escape ; you have 
 been told that your children are dead, your home 
 and inheritance passed into the hands of strangers ; 
 it is not so, it is an invention of the father of lies ; 
 come with me my child, I will show you your 
 children." Even while her mother was yet sjieaking. 
 Tiny found herself in the large old nursery where 
 she and her brother had spent their merry childhood. 
 The French nurse, w!iom she had sent home with 
 her children, was engaged in undressing a little girl, 
 who was shrieking with laughter at the antics a boy 
 of her own age was kicking up, tumbling somersaults, 
 jumping over stools, etcetera, all the while pursued 
 by Marioii who was in vain endeavouring to pur- 
 suade him to allow himself to be undressed. 
 
 " What would your mamma think, Master Charles, 
 if she knew you were such a bad boy ? I have half 
 a miud to tell her when she comes home." 
 
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246 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 l\ 
 
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 " I am a circus man," was the boy's reply, never 
 for one moment ceasing his play, which had now 
 become somewhat dangerous, by his seizing the poker 
 and flourishing it round, as he jumped from chair to 
 stool and from stool to chair again, '* circus men have 
 no mammas." 
 
 Running into an adjoining room, the little boy 
 dragged from thence a large sized hobby-horse con- 
 structed so that the feet pawed the ground, and vault- 
 ing into the saddle, he exclaimed with a jaunty nod 
 towards Marion, who stood looking at him as if 
 perfectly hopeless of getting him to bed for an hour ; 
 " Now Marion, I am on my high horse, good night ; 
 I'm oft" to Thurlow, would'nt you like to go, Leonora ?" 
 addressing his sister, then shaking his head with a 
 solemn look, he added, " No you had better not, the 
 night is getting very dark, and I wont be back until 
 to-morrow morning." 
 
 A moment more. Tiny was walking with her 
 mother through the suite of appartments connected 
 with the grand drawing-rooms ; all having the 
 appearance of being constantly in use ; again she waff 
 seated in the French habitant's cottage, the little 
 table with its open Bible, beside which lay the blue 
 bottle laden with its terrible memories, her mother 
 still stood beside her, and placing her hand on Tiny'e 
 shoulder, she said — 
 
 " Tiny, you cannot go home for yet a little while ; 
 the iniquity of Bertram Percy is not yet full ; remem- 
 ber what you have seen and cease not to pray for 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 247 
 
 faith to believe that all things work together for good 
 to those who love Grod, and are the called according 
 to Ilis puipose ; you must here live by faith not by 
 sight, if there were no mysteries in Grod's grace, and 
 we could see and judge of things in the light of our 
 'Own reason, where would be the trial of our faith so 
 precious in His sight ?" 
 
 A wood pigeon fluttered in through the window, 
 throwing down some trifle in his flight, Tiny opened 
 her eyes, the blessed dream was past, but she v/eut 
 in the strength of that food for many days. 
 
 When she awoke to full consciousness, she lifted 
 up the blue bottle, and opening it, leaned forward 
 so as to enable her to throw its contents out by 
 the window, and holding it there until the last 
 drop had fallen on the fresh wet grass, she laid it 
 down on the outer sill. Having completed her task, 
 she sat with folded hands, looking on the dripping 
 trees, fresh mossy grass and wild flowers, which 
 grew in profusion beneath her window. Her mind 
 felt composed and tranquil, as it had not done for 
 years, and a strong feeling of hope, to which she had 
 long been a stranger, pervaded her whole being ; the 
 remembrance of the vow she had made to keep God's 
 commandment — '* Thou shalt not kill," was before 
 her in all its force, and she lelt that that command- 
 ment was indeed " exceeding broad." That the days 
 passed without tasting food, as had often been the 
 ►case hitherto, must not occur again ; that when God 
 ^sent her 'meat to eat,' she must eat it in all thank- 
 
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 248 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 
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 fulness, praising the Griver. Thoughts of Captain; 
 Percy came, but they disturbed her not ; he was not 
 her husband now ; his own word and act had dis- 
 solved every tie which ever existed between them, 
 and her thoughts forming themselves into words,, 
 she exclaimed aloud: "Farewell, Bertram Percy, 
 forever more.' 
 
 While the sound of these words fell on her ear, 
 she drew a long breath, as if something which had 
 oppressed her soul had departed, as if she was once 
 more free, and her early days — her mother's home — 
 and the vision of the past hour, came strong upon 
 her, and she felt a full faith as if an angel sx)oke to 
 her soul; that sue had seen her children in the- 
 flesh; that she would yet dwell in the old home ; 
 that her children lived, and the words of her mother., 
 when as a ministering angel she came to show her 
 the home of her childhood, the same as it had ever 
 been, with Marion there, and the children large and 
 strong, as they would now have been had they 
 lived, came with a double force and power. 
 
 "If there were no mysteries in Grod's grace, and 
 we could see and judge of His ways in the light ot 
 our own reason, where would be the trial of faith so 
 precious in His sight ? " 
 
 The setting sun shone with a radiance of crimson 
 and gold, lighting the tops of the dark fir and cedai 
 ti'ees far down in the bush, while through the pale 
 green leaves of the wavy maple surrounding the 
 cottage, his gleams came lighting up old moss-grown- 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 24^ 
 
 stumps and fallen trees, making the brown bark and 
 green moss shine as if lit np with glory from the 
 world beyond ; cloudy argosies seemed drifting into 
 the purple dark, and the long low amber reaches 
 lying by the horizon, shaped themselves .into tho 
 gateways dim and wonderful, leading through tho 
 sunset out into the upper world, and looking on the 
 wonders of His glorious creation she felt that if her 
 children were in that upper w^orld, for them it was 
 far better, and that God had now given her grace 
 and strength to bide His time — she coald wait. 
 
 How those glorious sunsets, that great upper ocean 
 with its tides of throbbing stars, make us long to 
 be gone beyond the sunset, out into the primal 
 darkness, into the world of the unknown ; sudden 
 gleams — broken shadows — guesses of its grandeur — 
 like falling stars shoot past us quenched within a sea of 
 dreams, but the unimagined glory lying in the dark 
 beyond is to these as silence is to sound, as morn to 
 midnight ; sweeter than the trees of Eden dropping 
 fragrant balm and purple blooms are the odors 
 wafted towards us from its isles of stirless calm — 
 and the impearled gold and sapphire of all our 
 sunsets can only bring us hints of the glowing 
 heaven of that upper world — pure and cool water- 
 lilies — pale sea-buds that weep forever, and the 
 mystic lotus shining through its white waves beau- 
 tiful, bind there the brows of the ever-living w^hom 
 we blindly call the de^d. 
 
 Oh! ye departed. Ye who have passed that 
 
 ; Hi 
 
 ! ': «3| 
 
250 
 
 THE GEAND GOEDONS, 
 
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 ■ !l •:;! ' 
 
 silent shore — Ye whom we call through the sun- 
 set, will ye come no more ? Will ye not answer 
 and tell us if ye have found those blessed islands 
 where all earth's toils, its cares and sorrows, are 
 over for. evermore? Do ye wear the sacred lotus? 
 Have ye entered into peace ? Do ye hear us 
 when we call you ? Do ye heed our tears ? Oh ! 
 beloved — Oh ! immortal — Oh ! ye dead who are not 
 dead ! "Wave to us a glimmering hand — Speak to us 
 across the darkness — Ye dwellers in the silent land 
 — Tell us but that ye remember ! — It cannot be, we 
 must walk bv faith in Him who hath left us word 
 "*' I go to prepare a place for you — I shall come again 
 — If it were not so I would have told you " — Arch 
 and capital are gone — the sunset clouds have faded 
 — and the regal night is glorious with the over blown 
 wealth of stars — life is labor, not dreaming, and we 
 have our work to do ere we tread the Spirit land, ere 
 we wear the lotus. 
 
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 THE INDIAN'S HUT 
 
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 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ''^pi^IIE evening was darkening into night ere the 
 ^yS^ old habitant and his sqnaw returned with the 
 
 load of wood ; the wood they sought so far 
 from home was hard maple, a tree which did noc 
 grow in the bush where their cottage was built, and 
 the strong heat which this wood gave out, was 
 needed to protect them from the bitter cold of the 
 Canadian winter ; the pine, light maple and cedar 
 forming their bush, being wholly inefficient for such 
 a purpose. They brought with them a young girl 
 who spoke English — a grandchild of theirs, who had 
 been more than once at the cottage since Mrs. Percy 
 became one of its occupants — Ma-mon-da-kaw, the 
 young girl and her grandmother, immediately on 
 their arrival, entered Tiny's room, and in their usual 
 manner, seated themselves in silence on the floor, 
 with their hands folded over each other in their laps. 
 Tiny knew they waited for her to begin the conver- 
 sation, and addressing He-aw-ha, she asked — 
 
 " Have you got good wood ?" 
 
 The girl at once answered as was her wont for her 
 grandmother, 
 
 " Yes, beautiful wood, five feet long, all straight, 
 
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 252 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS, 
 
 without knots, and so dry, the bark is falling off, and 
 it would light with a little bit of chip or anything." 
 
 This was enough of preliminary, conversation, and 
 Tiny at once entered on the subject which had cm- 
 ployed her thoughts since she sat in the early evening- 
 looking at the sunset, the difficulty which assailed 
 her then, was how she could make the old Indian or 
 his wife understand that she wanted this girl brought 
 to the cottage, so that she might interpret between 
 them, this difficulty was obviated, and Mrs. Percy at 
 once entered on the subject she had in view. 
 
 " The man who brought me here " — in the rare 
 opportunities she had of communicating with the 
 old people, she always spoke of Captain Percy in 
 those terms, the first time Ma-mon-da-kaw had visited 
 her grand parents after Mrs. Percy's residence there, 
 the latter became aware that Captain Percy had 
 represented her to the Indians as his sister, not as his 
 wife, and their common name as Smith, which the 
 Indians pronounced Smit, any endeavour on her part 
 to undeceive them would most likely have excited 
 in them a suspicion of her own veracity, therefore 
 she made no such attempt, but by talking of him as 
 Mr, Smith or her brother, she would be lending her 
 countenance to a lie, this she could by no means do, 
 and hence the manner of designation she used. " The 
 ir:an who brought me here " she began, " came to-day 
 in your absence, and he told me he had no money to 
 pay for my board, nor would he have again ; He has 
 taken away the hundred dollars he left with the 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 253 
 
 Cure, and now I want you to take me into Montreal 
 to-morrow morning ; the Cure will give me a letter 
 to some of the hospital convents, and they will take 
 care of me until I get better or die." 
 
 Ma-mon-da-kaw explained this to her grandmother 
 with some severe comments of hor own on the 
 cruelty of Le Frere Smit as she called him ; the old 
 woman replied at once : 
 
 " I will speak to my husband ; he will go to the 
 Cure — we will bring you to Ilochelaga \^ the medi- 
 cine man will soon make you better, the Great Spirit 
 of the white man will care for the poor white 
 woman." 
 
 •' Tell your grandmother," replied Mrs. Percy, 
 " that I am very glad she will bring me to Montreal ; 
 ask if we will go to-morrow morning while the moon 
 is yet in the sky." 
 
 This was in like manner interpreted to the Indian 
 woman, who replied : 
 
 " No. — the horse is too tired, he cannot go by the 
 first moon — we will go by the second moon, when 
 the morning star breaks the day, we will be in Ilo- 
 chelaga, at the convent gate." 
 
 "Without waiting for a reply the old woman rose 
 and walked into the other apartment whence return- 
 ing in a minute or two, she said : 
 
 * Hochelaga was the name of the Indian Village found by Jacciues 
 Cartier, on the place where Montreal now stands ; and the Indians, when 
 talking among themselves, give it that name still. 
 
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 254 
 
 THE GRAND OORDONi. 
 
 " We go to Hochelaga with the first moon ; my 
 huNbaiid will borrow a IVeHh horse, ho will go to tho 
 Cur6." 
 
 While she was yet speaking, the old Indian passed 
 the window in search of a fresh horse and the letter 
 from the Cure, the old woman meantime busying 
 herself in boiling potatoes for their evening meal. 
 The girl still kept her seat on the floor as ii she 
 expected Mrs. Percy to speak, finding after the lapse 
 of a few minutes that this was not the case, she said : 
 
 " He-aw-ha is glad you go to Hochelaga." 
 
 " I dare say," responded Mrs. Percy. " She has 
 had much trouble with me." 
 
 . " No," replied the girl, in a quick tone, such as an 
 Indian woman seldom uses, •' you give little trouble 
 and pay much, your brother gives ten dollars for 
 four weeks pay, she could not find ten dollars in ten 
 weeks by making baskets, and she is too old now to 
 make bead-work, her eyes are weak, shall I tell what 
 makes He-aw-ha glad ? " 
 
 " Yes, I should like to know," was the reply. 
 
 " This is the time our camp goes West to hunt, last 
 year He-aw-ha not go because you here." 
 
 " When do you go ?" inquired her listener of the 
 girl, with an anxious beating ot the heart ; it seemed 
 as if God Himself had interposed to remove her out 
 of Bertram Percy's power. 
 
 " With the third moon from this all the hunters 
 who go West will be at the Lake of Two Mountains. 
 
THE (IRAND GORDONS, 
 
 0\t 
 
 Mamondagokwa and his squaw will meet them th(»re 
 before the stars come out when the sun has gone to> 
 rest," was the reply of the Indian girl. 
 
 " Will your grandfather have time to be there by 
 the third moon if he takes me to Montreal V" inquired 
 Mrs. Percy with some anxiety. 
 
 "Oh yes" was the girl's reply. " Before the sun 
 is high in the clouds above the cedars," as she spoke 
 pointing through the open win^^ow to the trees which 
 grew close by, and towered above the little cottage ; 
 *' they will be back from Hochelaga, and then they 
 can pack up their things and go to the Lake of Two 
 Mountains ; I will stay to help them." 
 
 " Will they take these things with them ?" in- 
 quired Mrs. Percy, pointing to the chair on which 
 she sat, the bed, table, chest, the only furniture the 
 room contained. 
 
 " No " replied the girl, " but they will leave them 
 with some one to take care of; if they did not, the 
 Canadians would steal them." 
 
 " When will you be back from the hunting ground?'" 
 asked Tiny. 
 
 " I am not going ; it is only the squaws who go^ 
 and sometimes the young children they cannot leave 
 behind them ; sometimes we all go, but that is when 
 we go for a long time and go far away." 
 
 " Do you like to go ?" inquired Mrs. Percy. 
 
 "Oh yes," replied the girl earnestly. "It ia so 
 happy being there ; bo bai^kets nor bead- work to make 
 then ; I wish they were going on a long hunt." 
 
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 THK UK AND aolMXlNS. 
 
 '* TTow lona: will Ihoy rcmnin away at iluH hiinl ?" 
 
 " No ono knows that but Iho ])ravos; ihoy iiovor 
 U»ll liu» «tnia\vs any Ihini^* liko Ihal, and won Uui 
 bravos do not know vory woU IhonisolvoN, lu'cunso 
 the CMiiols will cvorythinir, and if Uioy think it host 
 lo r»Mn;\in al'lor llu> snow I'ldls, llu»y jnst loll \\u\ 
 bn;vos and it is all sotlh»d, porhaps (hey will ronio 
 I>aok bolbro (ho snow lulls, porhaps not till it is all 
 ovor and i;ono." 
 
 ** llow is it you spoak suoh i»ood I'inglish? Do 
 many ol' tho youns^ Indian girls do so ?" 
 
 "Oh no, 1 do not know ono who speaks such 
 ixood English as I do, bui nearly all s}>eak a lillle 
 Freneh, Jle-wa-ha speaks good FriMU'h. 1 was a long- 
 lime living with I'^nglish people, that is how 1 learnt 
 it." 
 
 '* Did you like to live with the English ? " 
 
 " Yes," returiunl the girl in a tone very like " no ;" 
 " 1 liked them very well, tliey were very kiiul to nm 
 and gave me plenty of nice things to eat, but it was 
 terrible lonesome living with them, 1 was never out 
 more than two or three tinu's in a day, never onoo 
 out a whole day, or did any one I lived with go out 
 lor a whole day, but yet it was good for me I was 
 with <hem, I can road and write besides speaking 
 English, but Oh ! sueh a lonesome time, I would not 
 go back among them for all the world,'' 
 
 " ^\'hy did you go to live with them ?" inquired 
 ^Irs. rorcy, feeling now an interest in the girl's story. 
 
il 
 
 THE OHANI) noUDONH. 
 
 257 
 
 " My mothor "WJih at lloclu'lnp^a for a fow (lays, nn<l 
 <>n«i day I wandiirod from Iw^r on ihc HirofitH and 
 w'hon I could not lind njy molln^r I wandered away 
 and away out ol' thi^ town nuitil it waH uark, and a 
 man }>rouRht mo homo to hiH houwj; h(^ liad 8(!V<!ral 
 rliildrcn and I lived with ihcm until oncj yoar w<5 
 woni all ^oing <'• C-acouna — ih« day allf^r w«< f;am« 
 ihiTo we Haw a camp of IndiunH on Ihe Koa-lx^ach ; I 
 ran up \o Iho camp and the iirnt ])erHon f saw was 
 my molher — Oh ! nhe was so >i;lad, and I cri«!d I was 
 «o happy; Ihat day I went into the sea and wwimmed 
 lor liours, 1 lu^ver had a swim all llie time I wu8 
 with the Jilnglish p<M)ple." 
 
 " Did the English i)eople not wish you to remnin 
 wilh them? Did they com<i to see youV" 
 
 * Yes, Ihey earner aft<;r me wh«;n 1 ran to the camp, 
 and they came ortcn afterwards; (hey liked me and 1 
 liked vhem, hut 1 liked my niother hetter, and my 
 mother told them she would not let me go back to 
 »'iem, and she showed th«.'m the sam<; mark on my 
 nrm as th^^ro was on all my brothers and sisters, a 
 mark she jnit on hersiilf when we were only a lew 
 <lays old, so they did not ask me again." 
 
 " Did you never see them afterwards ?" 
 
 "Oh! yes, the children used to come to see me 
 ^vory day, they brought me all my clothes and many 
 presents, and they wished me to go to the house they 
 lived in at Cacouna to see them, but I was afraid they 
 would keep me, and I never went." 
 
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 258 
 
 THE ORAND GORDONS. 
 
 The Indian went and returned from the Curb's house 
 near the ■\illage, in about half the time it took Captaii> 
 Percy to come from the village to the cottage, although 
 he had in returning borrowed Monsieur Joinne tie's- 
 horse and ^vaggon to take Mrs. Percy into Montreal. 
 
 The Cure at once gave him a letter to the Superior 
 of the nuns of the Convent of the Holy Cross, 
 requesting them to take charge of Mrs. Percy, whom 
 he denominated Madam Smith, telling the Indian 
 that if he were there by six in the morning, the 
 lady would be admitted; this was exactly what the 
 Indian wanted, his time was short he luast be at the 
 Lake of Two Mountains ere the close of the third day, 
 and he determined to set off for Montreal by ' 1 e 
 o'clock in the morning, so as to deliver his charge hy 
 the first opening of the convent gates, or in more 
 explicit teriiis, at the earliest hour they were permit- 
 ted to be opened. 
 
 The Holy Cross is a convent of cloistered nuns who- 
 devote themselves to the care of the sick, the rules 
 of which are very strict, and the good natured Cur6 
 did his best to make the Indian understand how he 
 was to proceed previous to his (the Cure's) letter 
 being delivered to the Superior, after that, all would 
 be easy. 
 
 Monsieur Joinnette not only lent his horse and 
 waggon, but when be found the purpose it was 
 wanted for. added also two large buffalo robes, that as < 
 he expressed it — " the poor lady might be kept as 
 easy as possible, and guarded against taking cold." 
 
THE ORAND GORDONS. 
 
 25!) 
 
 All were astir early in the Indian's cottage, the 
 morning was lovely, and the fresh smell from the fir 
 and cedar trees waving above their heads as they 
 passed through the bush, seemed to give new life to 
 the poor invalid who had never once left the room 
 appropriated to her in the cottage since the day she 
 was lirst brought there by Captain Percy. Her baby's 
 grave lay in sight of, and at a little distance from the 
 window where she always sat, and after she was 
 placed in the waggon, she turned with tearful eyes 
 that she might once more look on the little mound 
 where her darling slept, the last tie which held her 
 to earth. 
 
 " Farewell my little darling," said she, •' perhaps 
 they will let me lie by thee, ii' so, I will soon be back 
 again." 
 
 The stars were dying out one by one as they wound 
 along the road towards the Bord-a-PloufI" and ere 
 they reached the Lachapelle bridge, the sun wa.s 
 rising in fill the glory of a summer morning. Butter- 
 Ihes und humming birds shining in green and scarlet 
 were seeking their dainty food among the rich 
 blossoms of the locust tree, and the scarcely ripe 
 bunches of the vine like crimson wild cherry. The 
 broad river swept onward in its clear calm beauty, 
 the bright shadows from the sun's early rays flitting 
 lightly on its bosom, the waters leaping their mimic 
 rapids in joyous sport as if a sore or heavy heart 
 had never crossed the stream. A red breast and his 
 mate flew from an elm, and darting upwards, filled 
 the air with their joyous thrilling notes; the very 
 
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 260 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS 
 
 insects were humming a song of joy, all nature was 
 glad in the light of Him who made them.. 
 
 The holy influence of the early morn and its 
 surroundings fell like balm from heaven on the weary 
 heart of the poor invalid, strengthening and refresh- 
 ing both soul and body. Verily as old Greorge Herbert 
 saith, " Mornings are mysteries." " Heaven's gate opens 
 when the world's is shut" — and her soul lifted itself 
 up in gratitude and praise to the Great All Father 
 for the deliverance He had wrought, in setting her free 
 thus wondrously and by such simple means, from 
 the power of the wicked man who called her wife. 
 For the Heaven sent dream coming in a time of sucli 
 «ore need, and bringing with it strength and hope, 
 which she had not known in all those lone: wearv 
 years since she parted with her mother at the door 
 of her old home. * i 
 
 And the words spoken then, the last she was ever 
 to hear from her mother's voice on earth ; those words 
 had come back and back so often to her in the starva- 
 tion of heart by which she was surrounded, from 
 that hour increasing day by day, until culminated in 
 the lonely woe and weariness of the Indian's hut, 
 when she saw her baby, the last thing left to love, 
 laid in her sight under the grassy mound by her 
 window. These old words seemed now to ring in 
 her ears, " Remember, Margaret, should the time ever 
 come when you feel that you are not better loved 
 by those around you, than you will always be in the 
 old home, come back to it." Alas ! while the words 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 261 
 
 in 
 
 were still warm on her mother's lips, her heart in- 
 stinctively told her, that time had already come ; 
 and a few months later, she had to hide the bitter 
 knowledge that she was only endured, a disagreeable 
 incumbrance, because the large drafts of money con- 
 rtantly sent by her mother, were necessary to the 
 gratification of Captain Percy's love of display, and 
 passion for gambling. 
 
 When she would have gone home, Captain Percy 
 determinedly set his face against her doing so, and 
 then, it was too late ; her mother dead, there was no 
 home to go to ; her children dead — their very inherit- 
 ance passed into the hands of strangers. 
 
 By one of those mysterious influences brought to us 
 by the ministering angels, a love of life had been re- 
 newed in her soul, and not only that, but if it were pos- 
 sible, a strong desire to see, once more, the walls of her 
 old home ; the graves where her mother and children 
 lay. As long as she was in Captain Percy's power, she 
 felt that this was impossible — he never would permit 
 it — he had told her so. often and often, long before 
 the time when her remittances from home ceased. 
 And after that, his bitter mocking reply to her earnest 
 entreaties that she might go to Scotland, was — "Most 
 surely, provide the money, you may go to-morrow." 
 
 Since the eventful yesterday, at least one step had 
 been made towards the accomplishment of her pur- 
 pose ; in a few hours she would be the inmate of a 
 cloistered convent, within the precincts of which he 
 could not set his foot ; when he returned to the 
 
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 THE GRAND GOBDONS. 
 
 Indian's hut, on the third day — 9S he had threatened 
 he would — he would find it empty, the Indian and 
 his wife both gone ; the most natural conclusion for 
 him to arrive at, was that she filled a suicide's grave ; 
 he would carefully avoid going to the Cure — the only 
 person who could tell him anything concerning her 
 — lest he should be asked to restore the money for 
 her funeral expenses, which he had possessed him- 
 self of on his last visit to Isle Jesus. 
 
 The Indian had carefully followed the line of way 
 pointed out to him by the Cure, rounded the base of 
 the mountain, passed through the toll-gate leading to 
 the St. Joseph Faubourg, from thence ascending the 
 mountain by Guy, and passing to the eastern Fau- 
 bourg, through St. Catherine street, in which they 
 now found themselves. 
 
 The citizens were here and there beginning to 
 rouse themselves from the preceding night's repose ; 
 now and then, an active housemaid would appear 
 coming forth from gentlemen's houses, as they passed, 
 with water-pail and broom, that she might sweep 
 and pour water on the pavement in front of her 
 master's door, thereby making it cool as well as clean 
 for the first hours of the morning ; more than one of 
 these turned to look with pitying eyes on the pale 
 face of the sick looking white woman, riding beside 
 an Indian in his cart. A cart loaded with ice passed 
 by, and the carter, a jolly-looking Irishman, called 
 out — " Hullo, Caugh-na-waugh-ga, where did you 
 pick up thai white wife ? "Why dont you feed her 
 
 5 ' I 
 
i\ ■ n 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 263 
 
 better, man?" A little further on, a lady plainly 
 dressed in mourning, Wfts busily employed watering 
 some flower plants, in a narrow parterre in front of 
 one of the terrace houses ; as the waggon approached, 
 she stopped her work for the instant, and looking up, 
 gazed with a look of more than common interest, on 
 the beautiful pale face passing before her ; the large 
 dark-grey eyes and pale-brown hair being strongly 
 •contrasted by the black crape bonnet worn at the 
 lt)ack of the head, so as to form a sort of frame-work 
 to the face, a fashion which had passed away two 
 years before. The lady's face, as she continued to 
 gaze on Mrs. Percy, while the waggon api>roached 
 slowly ; the pace the Indian held the horse to, lest a 
 <^uicker motion might shake the invalid ; the w onder- 
 ing expression of her face almost speaking the feel- 
 
 * ings which passed through her mind, while continu- 
 ing to look with rivetted eyes on the face which seemed 
 
 ' to be that of some one she knew — and yet she did 
 not — a face so familiar, and yet, when or where 
 seen before, she could not call to remembrance ; 
 the very bonnet worn so at the back of the head 
 seemed in her memory fresh as yesterday. Could 
 it have been in a dream ? Where was it seen before ? 
 Such were the questions she asked herself as she 
 stood looking after the waggon until it disappeared 
 from her view. For an instant, she thought of the 
 voice so clearly heard the night before, waking her 
 from sleep, and causing her to shudder amid the 
 darkness ; 'twas but for a moment, she dismissed it 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS 
 
 H;iH I 
 
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 hi, I ; ! 
 
 from her mind, ashamed of such superstitious wcalc- 
 ness. 
 
 That passing pale face, that black crape bonnet 
 were at intervals before Miss St. Clare's eyes and 
 occupied her mind for hours ; suddenly in the evening- 
 of the same day the vision which that head and face 
 called up to her mind's eye, came up from the store 
 house of her memory ; it was the likeness in life oi 
 the last pictured face of Mrs. Percy which had come 
 from India — the bonnet, one which had been sent 
 from Edinburgh, when Lady Gordon's last surviving; 
 Uncle died ! 
 
 "When this conviction at last forced itself upon her». 
 it came sharp as lightning ; as a barbed and poisoned 
 arrow. Could it be possible that this was Mrs. Percy 
 in very deed ? AVas Doctor Balfour right after all ? and ' 
 had she by her obtuseness, her innate stupidity, lost a, 
 chance which might never more be hers? This- 
 question she asked herself again and again, and then 
 when the first impulse of feeling had passed away, 
 she discarded the thought, seeing clearly, how utterly 
 ridiculous such a supposition was. Mrs. Percy riding 
 in a coarse country waggon with an Indian, at best 
 a half savage ; no, impossible, the very idea of such a 
 thing was too preposterous to be entertained for aii^ 
 instant ; it was true the face was delicate and refined,, 
 as even Mrs. Percy's might have been, but so is tho 
 face of the poorest servant girl, when v;orn down 
 by long sickness, as the one which passed in the- 
 morning evidently was, and she smiled, as she thought 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 265 
 
 were she to give the reins to her imagination to 
 what heights of folly it might lead her, soliloquizing 
 with herself, •' It is fortunate this likeness did not 
 strike me more vividly at once ; I am so impulsive, I 
 would probably have gone after the waggon and 
 asked the sick woman, if her name was not Mrs. 
 Percy." 
 
 Alas ! this terrible unbelief which the evil spirits 
 who beset our path, know how to play with now, 
 just as well as the serpent did when he tempted our 
 mother, thousands of years ago ; We would walk by 
 sight, not by Faith, and we ask each other, 
 
 " Why is it not so ? — Why does God hide Himself 
 so wondrously? — Why is the exercise of this almost 
 unattainable faith desired of us?" — and yet when 
 sight is given, we wrap ourselves in the mantle of 
 our own reason, and say with sceptical souls, " It is 
 not realHy — it is a mere vision of the night — a 
 vague dream" — or if palpably before our eyes in 
 the day time, we have recourse to another hypothesis 
 — " The retina of the eye is diseased — and thence 
 plays tricks with our imagination — It is true the 
 word of God tells us that Gabriel appeared unto the 
 man greatly beloved — that Jacob wrestled with 
 another of God's messengers until the break of day — 
 the Bible is lull of such things from beginning to 
 end — but these are all met by the glib sophistry of 
 the ninteenth century — " such things might have been 
 in an earlier stag.^ of our existence when men's minds 
 were not so far advanced in science ; knowledge now 
 
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 ^66 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 Ttinueth to and fro, they are unnecessary ; and as to 
 being tempted of the devil in this self-enlightened 
 age, it is met with a sneer and langh at the poor 
 ignorant man or woman who dares uphold such a 
 superstitious unreasonable doctrine. 
 
 It would have been well for her if she had indeed 
 run after the waggon, and asked that question ; it 
 would have most likely saved her from the great 
 woe of her life, a woe that made her hair grey in her 
 youth, and haunted her as the nightmare of her 
 •dreams in middle age. 
 
 --»«?»-- 
 
 As the waggon passed the house with its parterre 
 of flowers, Mrs. Percy became painfully conscious of 
 being an object of scrutiny to the lady who a second 
 or two previous was so busily occupied in watering 
 her llowers ; the words used by the man with the ice- 
 cart, — the sympathizing face of the servant girl,— came 
 back to her remembrance, showing but too plainly 
 there was something about herself, the waggon, 
 or the Indian, which excited the observation she was 
 so anxious to avoid ; she had been so much accus- 
 tomed to the Indians during her long residence in 
 their hut, and their conduct had been so kind and 
 gentle towards her, that she never once thought 
 there could be anything to excite surprise in a white 
 woman riding in the same wagfron with an Indian ; 
 «he rather suspected it was her own sickly-looking 
 face which attracted attention to the waggon, so in 
 
jr 
 
 THE GRAND OOROONS. 
 
 267 
 
 order to put a stop to this unpleafiant scrntiny, she 
 drew her veil, which had duriug the morning hung 
 over the back of her bonnet, round to her face, 
 doubling it in front and drawing her black shawl 
 closely up to her neck, she felt secure that now no 
 one could know whether her face was sickly or 
 healthy, that of a white woman or an Indian. 
 
 She had very soon cause for thankfulness that she 
 had so muffled herself up ; a few minutes had only 
 elapsed ere Captain Percy issued from the door of a 
 handsome boarding-house, carrying his fishing-rod, 
 and followed by — could it be possible ? — could that 
 young woman looking so ill-tempered, and talking so 
 sharply and familiarly to Captain Percy, be really 
 Abigail Smith ? — Yes, it was most certainly Abigail 
 Smith's voice and face; she had full opportunity 
 given her of noting both. 
 
 As Captain Percy emerged from the house, he 
 called out in a surly tone " Come on quickly ; wont 
 you, or we'll be late ; " he walked with a quick step, 
 and on the instant, his back was towards the waggon. 
 As Abigail descended the steps in front of the houee 
 door, she replied in a sharp insolent voice, the tones 
 of which were so familiar to Mrs. i'ercy's ear, those 
 accents of low-bred, haughty insolence under wl:ich 
 she had too often winced in India and New- York ; 
 
 " I'll come when it suits me, if you are in such a 
 hurry, you should have taken a carriage ; you are 
 more saving of your shillings now, than you used to 
 be of your pounds in New- York ; I always thought 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 I 1 
 
 a carriage to take one to the cars was a necessity til) 
 now, but I'm learning something new every day 
 here." 
 
 As she spoke she looked at the waggon, turning 
 for a second and gazing with a face of wonder at the 
 Indian, thereby giving a full opportunity to Mrs. 
 Percy of scanning her face ; that face engraven on 
 Tiny's memory in lines of fire. She joined Captain 
 Percy and they both walked quickly on, to Tiny's 
 great relief, turning down one of the cross streets 
 loading to the town. 
 
 What a flood of light the encounter with this man 
 and woman had poured into her soul ; the man, her 
 husband ; the woman once her waiting-maid ; now 
 the great mystery of the last two years was solved ; 
 she knew well now why she would not be permitted 
 to return to her Scottish home ; why she was im- 
 mured in a living grave with a half savage man and 
 woman for her keepers ; why she was to be made the 
 instrument of her own destruction ; Verily, it is not 
 *' the dark places of the earth," alone, that *' are full of 
 the habitations of cruelty. 
 
 The Indian proceeded along St. Catherine street, 
 nearly a mile after passing the house from which 
 Captain Percy and Abigail issued before he came to 
 the street he was desired to turn up, and in which 
 last the convent of The Holy Cross was situated ; it 
 was at last gained, and they halted in front of a build- 
 ing, so large, that wearied as Tiny was, she could 
 not bear the additional fatigue of looking at it from 
 
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 THE GRAND G0RD0N3. 
 
 269 
 
 every side, as the Indian was doing in his wondering' 
 surprise, and as others have done with equal wonder 
 and admiration, who have been familiar with such 
 establishments on the continent of Europe. 
 
 The Indian rang the bell, according to the Cure's 
 orders ; in a few minutes, a lay nun appeared at a 
 little wicket, in the gate, just large enough for her 
 to see who had rung the bell and enquire into his 
 business , the Curb's letter was delivered into her 
 hand, and in a few minutes another larger wicket 
 was opened, the lay nun who first answered the 
 summons of the bell, and another similarly attired, 
 came forth, and gently lifting the invalid from the 
 waggon, placed her in the hands of two other nuns 
 inside the wicket door; a bell sounded inside, the 
 wicket was again closed; an iron bar put across 
 inside ; the Indian turned his waggon, and in an hour 
 afterwards had left the town far behind on his way 
 back to Isle Jesus. 
 
 !. s ' 
 
 
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■!P— 
 
 -♦«l 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 i 
 
 |; 
 
 i I 
 
 \ 
 
 APTAIN Percy turned from the Indian's 
 cottage, after leaving with the woman whom 
 he had once vowed to love and cherish 
 all her life long, that poison brought from Europe's 
 distant land, that it might usher her shivering 
 unprepared soul into an unknown eternity, to 
 meet the God whose commandment she had broken 
 by her last act on earth. He had only walked a few 
 steps, towards the path leading through the bush^ 
 when a thought struck him, he would retrace his 
 steps and going round by the other side of the hut, 
 endeavour to see without being seen, what Tiny 
 seated at the open window was about, whether the 
 blue bottle with its deadly contents still lay on the 
 table untouched. Fortune favored him ; on turning* 
 the corner of the hut he found that a great cedar 
 forming two large trunks which sprung from one 
 root, and grew so closely together as only here and 
 there to admit a line of light, formed a sort of screen 
 between himself and the occupant of the window, so 
 near that he could by applying his eye to the space 
 between the trunks, with ease see, and if need be, 
 hear what passed within, the soft mossy nature of 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 271 
 
 the grass effectually preventing the slightest sound 
 from his foot-fall being heard. 
 
 "What he saw was perfectly satisfactory ; his wife 
 leant forward over the table, the blue glove-bottle 
 he had placed there a few moments previous, in her 
 hand ; she was iu the act of lifting it up, he saw 
 her raise the stopper, as if to look inside, and he 
 heard distinctly her murmured words, " It is an easy 
 way out of all my trouble." — 
 
 He was satisfied ; he had seen enough ; in a few 
 minutes more she would be struggling in strong 
 convulsions, foaming at the mouth with the death 
 rattle in her throat ; he had no wish to see that, no, 
 he would spare himself that sight, he had enough of 
 such horror, he would not expose himself to this. 
 Years ago long ere his first foot-fall fell with its 
 blasting Blight on Lady Gordon's threshold he shot 
 his friend, the friend at whose board he had been a 
 welcome guest, and whose young wife he had 
 entrapped into infamy and misery. He had stood 
 looking on, while this man's soul went uncalled to 
 meet his Creator in the far eternity ; he had stood 
 spell-bound, as his victim sprung into the air, and 
 then fell with a heavy stone-like sound on the 
 rocky beach, he looked on with a fascination which 
 held him in its fangs and would not let him go, 
 but kept him gazing there with transfixed staring' 
 eyes, while the lower limbs of the dying man were 
 drawn spasmodically up to his writhing body, his 
 arms tossed about, vainly beating the air, his head 
 
 
 im 
 
272 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 2 
 
 I 
 
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 i» i 
 
 Tolling from side to side, the eyes staring wildly in 
 his slayer's face, the lips drawn tightly back, dis- 
 closing set teeth through which the life blood came 
 oozing forth ; that face came back to him in his 
 guilty dreams, the face so close to his own that he 
 felt the blood on his cheek, and would wake in the 
 dark night, shivering with a horror he dared not 
 name ; No, much as he desired her detith ; long 
 as he had looked forward to it, and tried to bribe 
 others to commit the guilty act, he dared not him- 
 self do, yet he would not witness another death 
 scene, would not risk a new night horror being 
 added to the one which at times he feared would 
 make him a raving madman. 
 
 Impelled by the dread of witnessing the scene 
 which he knew must quickly follow the lifting, by 
 the half palsied hand, of that poisoned bottle, he 
 withdrew from behind the cedar tree with as much 
 haste as was consistent with due exercise of caution, 
 lest the least unwonted sound should startle his poor 
 victim, and turn her from her resolution. He remem- 
 bered now, with a grim satisfaction, the last time he 
 had been at the Indian's hut, when he came through 
 the winter snow, the bearer of his own letter, inform- 
 ing her that both her children were dead, when 
 desiring the Indian to deliver it instantly, he had 
 waited outside this very window, and heard the 
 groan which told him his lies had been read and be- 
 lieved. "That letter did a good work," said he, 
 " without the information it contained, she would 
 
'■: il 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS, 
 
 273 
 
 liaT« ching" to life, if only in hopes of seeing these 
 cabs again." 
 
 Already had the storm of wind commonced, and 
 Ending it impossible to keep his onward way, struggle 
 5is he would, he flung himself on the ground at a 
 little distance from the hut, there to wait until the 
 violence of the storm had passed away. lie had 
 thrown himself directly in the line of the storm, and 
 ^s it bent the pine trees under w^hich he lay, their 
 broken boughs, swept by the whirlwind, came rioting 
 with their sharp pines and hard cones over his pros- 
 trate body, making him fain to hide his face from 
 their contact, in the sterile ground, the invariable bed 
 of the ,fir tree ; then came those terrific peals of 
 thunder already described, which seemed to his guilty 
 :soul to concentrate around the spot where he lay, 
 iis if commissioned to summon him before that awful 
 tribunal, of which with his ribald companions he had 
 «o often made a mockery and scorn, and he shud- 
 dered in horror of soul as he felt his own impotency 
 4x> strive against the mighty power of Grod; he believed 
 that his wdfe was now a lifeless piece of clay, and 
 that the avenger of blood was on his track. 
 
 The rain fell in torrents, soaking him to the skin, 
 but the thunder, which spoke of the wa*ath of the 
 Almighty so loudly to his guilty soul, had passed 
 5iway, and the pouring rain was simply an incon- 
 venience. 
 
 He believed that the Indian and his wife on their 
 Yeturn in the evening, would find Tiny a corpse. 
 
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274 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 without suspecting other cause than the consum- 
 mation of her disease, which ho had from the very 
 first impressed on their minds was sure to come, and 
 which he himself had been led to expect loni>' beloi e 
 by the opinion of every medical man wli^m he hud 
 consulted ; at same time he knew on the morrow 
 they would be sure to apply to the Cure for the 
 money so long promised, and which the Priest had 
 no longer in his possession ; ho must Y)rovide against 
 any evil which the knowledge of this on their part 
 might give rise to ; the Cure also must be led to 
 believe that the. storm had prevented him froui 
 reaching the Indian's hut, lest a suspicion of the- 
 truth, or something near it, might be excited in ihe 
 minds of either the Cure or the Indians. 
 
 Taking his way therefore to the Priest's house, he 
 showed himself in his wet clothes, saying that walking 
 leisurely along, he had been overtaken by the storm 
 while still a long way from the bush, that he hail 
 vainly sought shelter by trying first one side and 
 then the other of the old wall of the ruined cottage, 
 and at last abandoned all idea of going to see his 
 invalid sister in his present wet state, that ho would 
 return on the day after the morrow to pay the Indian 
 the board now due, and to remove his sister, as he 
 had now come to the resolution of bringing her with 
 him to Europe, iu hopes that her native air might 
 yet restore her. 
 
 He well knew the Cure would tell all thir, to the 
 Indians on their applying to him for the money, and 
 
LC 
 
 lllg'llt 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS, 
 
 275 
 
 while the certainty of receiving their money in two 
 days would keep them quiet, it would give him time 
 to receive the sum from his sister by the British 
 Mail expected on the morrow, and also, what in his 
 present excited state of mind was a vital consideration, 
 give the Indians ample time to bury his dead out ot 
 his sight, ere he would arrive again. . 
 
 The simjile Cure sympathized with him on having 
 had such a mishap as to be caught in the storm, 
 offered to have his clothes dried, which Captain Percy 
 polilf^ declined, on the plea that he had business in 
 Montreal, which required his presence early in the 
 evening, and must therefore make the best of his 
 time, and change his clothes on his arrival there. 
 This was however a line of conduct he never oncQ 
 thought of adopting, his ' creature comforts ' were 
 always with Captain Percy of the very first impor- 
 tance, and on his arrival at the aubcrge he at once 
 requested the landlord to provide him with a change 
 of raiment, so that his soaking garments might be 
 dried, while he indulged in a little brandy and 
 water, a cigar and a newspaper, to which he applied 
 himself, partaking more freely than usual of his 
 favorite brandv, that he miiyht banish from his 
 mind the image of the clay cold dead thing, he 
 believed to be lying within the window of the 
 Indian's hut. 
 
 The brandy had its usual soothing, or otherwise 
 speaking, stupifying effect ; the difficulties which lay 
 in his path gradually disapx^eared, untilhe persuaded 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 himself into the helief that his sister's letter, with its 
 remittance, would be waiting for him on his retv\rn 
 to his boarding house, and pleasing himself with the 
 idea, that once possessed of this money, he could, 
 after settling with the Indian, and so getting rid of 
 all fear of detection as to his conduct toward Tiny, 
 at once proceed to New York, where he might soon 
 make fifty pounds into so many hundreds ; he had 
 done it before, why not now ? 
 
 Such were the meditations which occupied his 
 mind as he neared Montreal, and driving al^PJf by 
 one of the lower streets, so that he might teir the 
 livery people from whom he had hired the horse 
 and vehicle, to send for it, he encountered a crowd 
 at the corner of one of the cross streets which 
 obliged him to halt for a second or two. Picking her 
 way through the crowd and passing close to his 
 carriage, ciime a young lady whose face troubled him 
 not a little ; she was the same whom his wife pointed 
 out to him when they dined at Island Pond, on 
 their w'ay from Portland to Montreal ; he answered 
 his wife's question regarding her at that time by 
 some light badinage, yet he suspected then, what he 
 was sure of now, that it was the same face he saw 
 looking at him in the mirror in Lady Gordon's 
 drawang-room, as he pointed his finger in derision 
 at Tiny's pictured face,; poor as he was he would 
 have given all the money in his pocket, and braved 
 the .anger of his landlady, to know certainly if he 
 was right in his conjecture, and if so, what brought 
 
!!l 
 
 THE (tllAND (loKDONS. 
 
 277 
 
 li 
 
 her to Canada ? He well knew that it was Lady 
 Gordon's intention to have gone to India to seek her 
 daughter ; he was well aware, cover it as Mr. Morton 
 would, by asking his permission to have the grave 
 opened, etcetera, that it was no grave Lady Gordon 
 had she lived, would have gone to India to seek out. 
 but her living daughter, in the story of whose death * 
 the terms of her will showed she had never believed. 
 Could such a thing be possible as their having found 
 out that Tiny was brought to New York, and thence 
 to Montreal ? to guard against this he had assumed 
 the names of Mr. and Mrs. Smith, from the day they 
 landed in Bombay, from whence they had sailed in 
 a French vessel to a French port, and again in 
 another French ship to New York ; he was sick of 
 Tiny long before they left India, and all his plans 
 were well laid to prevent the possibility of detection. 
 N© one could have told of their ever having been 
 in America, except Abby, and she was made 
 thoroughly aware of the importance of concealing 
 the fact ; she knew that were Lady Gordon to become 
 aware of her daughter having left India alive, all 
 hope of succeeding to any part of her wealth.would 
 ' be over for ever ; besides he had never left Abby 
 k alone, except the day of Lady Gordon's funeral, and 
 then she' assured him she had not spoken one word 
 to any one, and he )iad so often impressed on her 
 during those two days not to speak to any stranger 
 whatever. " 
 
 This then was certainly not within the bounds of 
 
 i\^' -.11 
 
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 278 
 
 THE GRAND (lORDONS. 
 
 i::i.M 
 
 hi: 
 
 probability, and even if it woro so, was it likely they 
 would send a youni? woman to find out what a 
 clever lawyer could have so much better accom- 
 plished i " No," he ari»ii(Ml, " if she is ihe person I 
 suspect, she must have lost her situation on Lady 
 Gordon's death, and come her«; to o])tain one, but if I 
 * am rii>ht in sui^posing- that she is the person I saw 
 at Lady Gordon's, I am also correct in thinkini^ that 
 she recognized me on board thes cars, and that she 
 did so as she passed me within the last minute, or 
 else mistook me I'or some one she wished to avoid, 
 there is not the shadow of a doubt ; she absolutely 
 started as her eyes met mine ; if I can spare time 
 before I leave for New York after I <«et the allair 
 with this Indian settled, I must certainly, for my 
 own satisfaction, try to lind out who the young 
 woman is, and what brought her to Montreal ; if I 
 iind her residence here has any reference to ipy 
 ali'airs, she had better have remained eating her brosvi 
 and porridge in " the land of cakes and brither 
 Scots ;" by my fiiith I'll make this land too hot to 
 hold her, or perhaps contrive to give her lodgings 
 whera she'll pay no board ; it would be quite an 
 exciting little job, and I dont think a very difficult 
 one, to give a philter to one of those half mad pride 
 and poverty Scotchwomen, that would set helter 
 skelter the little brains they ever have, and make 
 them fit subjects for a madhouse during the rest of 
 their natural lives. Although these Scotch have nine 
 lives like a cat, there is no possibility of killing them 
 
THE GRAND OOIlDONt;. 
 
 279 
 
 an 
 
 TTow I do hato the whole race of the psalm sin^inj 
 liy[)0:'riU»s." 
 
 Tiie last sontonco was nnconsr'ioiislv uttered aloud, 
 and enl'oreed hy giviui^ a cut with the whi]> to his 
 horse, which «iLMit hiiiipell mell aloni;' the street, until 
 he i'ound hiniseli' at the door of the livery stable. 
 
 Captain Percy changed his mind as to riding 
 home and having his horse and vehicle sent for, 
 preiering to walk, in hopes he might again see the 
 face t/iaf troubled liini, and so be enabled to trace her 
 lo her home, as a iirst Hioy* to asccru.'Minn' who she 
 was, and if it interested him, learniug what the 
 business was which brought her to Montreal. 
 
 lie walked along in the direction whir li he had 
 .seen the young lady tale, in hopes of 0Y<;rtiiking her, 
 but without success ; tiiefuce that troubicd kim was not 
 to be seen. 
 
 On entering his boarding house he went straight 
 up to the bedroom allotted tor himself and his wife, 
 Avhere the latter generally sat, except during meals, 
 or when she occasionally paid a visit to an American 
 lady, whose chamber was situated on the same flat 
 as her own ; she was now busily engaged in alterii^g 
 the arrangement of the flowers on a green silk dress 
 which had evidently seen its best days ; this dress 
 had some time since been declared '* only flt for 
 rainy days and odd times," but since their arrival in 
 Montreal, Captain Percy had always declared himseli 
 too busy to go in search of the baggage left at the 
 Orand Trunk depot, and consequently Abby had 
 
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 280 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS 
 
 been reduced to three dresses, and these none of the? 
 best, her travellinf^ dress and two others, that iit 
 order not to crush those in her trunks, she had stuQed 
 into a carpet ba^-. The want of those two trunks 
 occasioned many quarrels b(>tween Captain Percy 
 and Abby, but still the trunks lay al the railway 
 depot, and Ahhy strongly suspected what was the 
 truth, that her trunks W(!re handed over to the Gon« 
 ductor until the iare IVom Portland could be paid ; 
 this would have been no easy matter, as until now, 
 when the hundred dollars were taken from the Cure, 
 as a last resource, to prevent their being turned out 
 on the street, he had not had twenty dollars in his 
 possession since he entered Montreal. 
 
 As Captain Percy entered the room where sh(\ 
 whom we must now call his wife, sat, he Hung him- 
 self into the only easy chair which it boasted, saying-,, 
 as he did so : — , 
 
 *' I have made a good day's w^ork of it, but I ant 
 quite used up ; I had to walk upwards of fourteen 
 miles, besides my long drive, w^hich tires one nearly 
 as much as walking on these horrible Canadian 
 roads, before I could get my money, but I am thank- 
 ful to say I got it at last ; I hope our luck is going- 
 to take a turn for the better now, and be as good for 
 the next year as it has been bad for the past." 
 
 "I am sure I hope it is," replied his wife, "for I 
 hate to be poor ; I never knew what poverty was all 
 my life, and never wanted good clothes till now.. 
 "When I was in Mrs. Douglasso's I had sixteen dresses^ 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 281 
 
 all of them silk, satin, or IriKh poplin, besides lot» 
 of worsteds, muslins and calicoes, and now I'm 
 ashamed to bo seen ; 1 havo not a decent dress to 
 my back ; I dont wonder people are al'raid to trust 
 VlH, when they see the old rags I wear, and know that 
 wo have no baggage ; il' something does not turn 
 up soon, I'm going to take a i>lace in a shop ; I heard 
 of a place to-day where I can get a hundred pounds 
 a year, and I'll like that much better than taking a 
 situation, because I'll have my evenings after seven 
 o'clock, and my Sundays to myself." 
 
 " Hold your tongue, Abby," said her husband, in 
 an angry tone ; " there is no use in talking that way ; 
 you know very well that if we had only enough to 
 buy one meal a day, I never would permit my wife 
 to serve in a shop ; what do you imagine would any 
 of my brother officers think were they to see you so- 
 employed V This run of ill luck is over now, and I 
 must take care it does not come again. By the way,"^ 
 said he, suddenly changing his tone to a cheerful 
 accent, " What news do you think I heard to-day ? 
 Our regiment is coming out to Canada , I think I 
 shall join again." 
 
 This was a direct falsehood ; he had not heard of 
 his regiment, as he called it, coming to Canada, and 
 even if it did, he well knew he could not join it, nor 
 would he .if he could ; having sullied his rank by 
 marrying his wife's servant, he would have been sent 
 to Coventry by every officer in the regiment, but 
 for a private reason of his own, he wished to get 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 Ahby into good humor, and he knew there was 
 nothing' so ]ik(»ly to etFect this as the prospect of his 
 again joining his regiment, and she becoming thereby 
 an ollieer's lady ; the bait took instantly, and she 
 exclaimed, with sparkling eyes, and an almost joyous 
 tone of voice — 
 
 "Oh! I wish you would; there is nobody in the 
 world so happy as an officer's wife ; Tin sure all the 
 unmarried officers would have done anything in the 
 world for Mrs. Douglasso or Mrs. Percy ; when do 
 you think they are coming ? are they coming to 
 Montreal, or where ? I shall count the days till they 
 come. One good ihing, I am very glad Colonel 
 Douglasso has retired ; IVIrs. Douglasso is such a 
 proud woman, I am sure she would not ask me to 
 her parties, although I couut myself just as good as 
 her ; they say Colonel Douglasso's folks are poor 
 enough, but of course she had a large fortune of her 
 own, and that made her proud, and her sister was 
 married to a baronet ; she was Lady Philpots ; Mrs. 
 Douglasso visited there when she was in Ireland, 
 before we came out to India, and her maid showed 
 me all her jewels ; she had such splendid things ! 
 a whole set of rubies and emeralds, and such a pearl 
 necldace, with pearls as large as" she had nearly said 
 ' Mrs. Percy's, but she remembered that any allusion 
 to Mrs. Percy's jewels was always fraught with ill 
 humor, and she adroitly changed the sentence into 
 ■*' as large as anything." 
 
 He allowed her to run on talking in this style, 
 
 ir i 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 2a3 
 
 and with the prospect of joininj^ the rooiment as a 
 Captain's lady, she soon talked herwelt' into good 
 humor, 
 
 *' I had bettor ^ive you the Vnoney to pay our 
 greedy landlady ; did she favor you with any more 
 impertinence T 
 
 " No, but my bed was not made, nor the slops 
 emptied till past two o'clock. 1 let her pass with 
 it to-day, because I was afraid of another talking 
 to about the board money, but if my room is not 
 made up bright and early to-morrow, I'll give her a 
 good rowing, I can tell you ; now she has raised ray 
 bile, I'll make her pony up ; I'm not going to sit all 
 day in a miserable place like this, and the bed not 
 made." 
 
 •" Quite right," said Captain Percy, as he proceeded 
 to take the notes from his pocket book to pay the 
 landlady, and thinking at same time, as he glanced 
 round the large well furnished l)edroom where they 
 sat, that although A})by chose to designate it as 
 * miserable,' yet it formed a striking contrast to any 
 one he had ever known her to occupy until she 
 became his wife. "There are forty eight dollars; 
 that pays for the w^eeks in arrear and for the one 
 running on ; now take care she gives you a receix)t." 
 
 " Never fear;. I'm well up to all that, but I'm real 
 glad to get the money to pay her ; they are all so 
 impudent here ; I would not stay a day longer in the 
 house but for that American lady ; she is such good 
 company, and we were so lonesome in the other 
 
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284 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 houses ; What do you thmk I heard the servant say- 
 ing to the girl of the house, while they were making* 
 up Mr. Rogers' room ? The door of my room was 
 open, and so was his, and they saw me sitting here 
 as they passed, so they knew very well I must hear 
 every word they said. They began speaking of all 
 the boarders, and praising Mrs. Taft, like anything, 
 and then the servant said, ' If I was Mrs. Smith, I'd 
 rather take and sell that fine gold watch and chain, 
 with its rows of pearls, that she is so vain of, hang- 
 ing outside her dress, and pay for what I eat ; I 
 would not cheat anybody out of my meat, and go 
 sailing about with gold watches and line brooches, 
 as she does,' " was'nt that awful impertinence ? " 
 
 " It was," replied Captain Percy, his face flushing 
 as he spoke. " But sometimes those low people, in 
 their insolence, speak very plain truths ; you know 
 I have often told you not to wear your watch outside 
 your dress, — a lady never does, — you never saw " — 
 he would have added " Mrs. Percy wear her watch 
 so," but some hidden chord that vibrates in every 
 human breast, the base and depraved, the lofty and 
 noble alike, was touched, ringing out clearly from 
 the store-house of his memory. His eyes were 
 gathering in the details of Abby's dress, ffom the 
 immense puff's of shining black hair towering on the 
 back of her head, set off by rosettes 6f scarlet velvet, 
 near which, although not in keeping, were the 
 exquisitely wrought brooch and earrings given to 
 Tiny by her mother, the last hour they ever spent 
 
 
iVV 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 285 
 
 together ; downwards over the light grey batiste 
 dress, spotted with f^carlet and trimmed with fringed 
 silk ruchings of the same color ; at her waist hung 
 Tiny's watch, with its rows of encircling pearls, the 
 chain of which, diverted from its original use by the 
 iancy of the wearer, w^as tied round her waist above 
 the scarlet sash, giA'ing a look of display to her whole 
 costume ; the dress short enough to expose extremely 
 high heeled shoes, with immense leather bows and 
 buckles. To his mind's eye, was i>ictured out in 
 clearer colors and truer lines than mortal painter 
 ever drew. Tiny, as he saw her the last time she 
 ever w^ore that watch, those ornaments ; her tin el y 
 shaped head devoid of ornament, save those earrings 
 and her own pale brown curls, her simple morning 
 dress of white muslin, just touching the ground, and 
 fastened at the throat by the very brooch he now 
 saw ; under the pink waist-band lay concealed her 
 pearled watch, its presence only guessed from the 
 chain hanging lightly round her neck ; and in 
 contrast to this fair vision, was another, conjured 
 tip and pictured out with a sterner and sharper 
 pencil, — the window of the Indian's hut, where still 
 lay untouched that cold dead thing of fear ! all this 
 passed before him mentally in a second of time ; he 
 stopped speaking ; the sentence was left unfinished. 
 
 Abby's face flushed up with nearly as deep a dye 
 as the trimmings of her dress, and her pretty black 
 eyes snapped with anger, as, hastily unfastening her 
 watch and throwing it on the table, she said : 
 
 I '« 
 
286 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS 
 
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 " Take your old watch , 1 doiit want it ; I know 
 very well what you were going to say, and I dont 
 want to hear it ; if Mrs. Percy pleased you so well, 
 why did'nt you let l^erself hear a little of it ; there 
 was'nt many sweet words j)assed between you that 
 ever I heard, but I heard plenty as sour as vinegar, 
 and if you liked her manners and her ways so much 
 better than mine, why did'nt you go to Scotland for 
 another Scotch wife ? I saw no lack of old maids 
 when I was there, and I'm sure I did'nt force my- 
 self on you ; I kept you at your distance, you cant 
 deny, and threatened to tell Mrs. Percy more than 
 once of your on-goings. I wish I had; I would'nt 
 have been here now, but would have been far better 
 off — and worse than that, you cant deny that you 
 asked me to marry you before your wife was dead ; 
 I would'nt be surprised to hear some day that yoii 
 had poisoned her." 
 
 Captain Percy rose from the recumbent position 
 he had maintained since his entrance, and went 
 slowly towards his wife, his very lips ashy white 
 with suppressed rage ; she saw she had gone too far, 
 and a little afraid of what was coming, retreated a 
 few steps as he advanced towards her, but this time 
 there was no escape ; she had overstepped the mark, 
 and seizing her arm between the elbow and shoulder, 
 with a grasp of iron, the pain of which made her 
 wince, he exclaimed, in low deep tones, which be- 
 trayed his passion more than the loudest voice could 
 have done : — 
 
 -i; 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 287 
 
 " Woman, hold that infernal tongue of yours, or I 
 shall beat you, both bones and llesh to a jelly ; it was 
 an evil day I first saw you, you brawling low wretch." 
 
 " I'm not a low wretch," she screamed at the top 
 of her voice, endeavouring to free herself from his 
 grasp, as she spoke ; this was not an easy matter ; ho 
 held her iirmly, and her strength to his was as 
 the willow wand to the strong Irish shillelah ; the 
 pain of her arm enraged her, calling forth all the 
 animal in her nature, and using her free arm, she 
 seized a handful of his hair which she endeavoured 
 to tear out by the roots ; " you dare to call me a low 
 wretch, you thief, you, that stole your wife's money, 
 and made her belieVe her mother was dead, so that 
 you might steal it; if you dont let me go, I'll scream 
 out murder, and give you over to the police ; I kiiow 
 more about you than you think." 
 
 It w^as now his turn to rid himself of her grasp, 
 which he did by giving her a blow on the head» 
 which almost stunned her, and sent her reeling to- 
 wards the bed on which she fell; he then, with 
 almost incredible coolness, walked across the room 
 to the table where the w^atch lay, lifted it up, looked 
 at the time, and putting it in his pocket, left the room, 
 shutting the door gently after him, as if nothing un- 
 usual had occurred, taking the precaution to turn the 
 key in the lock, and carry it along with him. 
 
 As he turned to descend the staircase, the landlady 
 of the house, her daughter and servant, were seen 
 coming towards him with a rush. 
 
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288 
 
 THE GRAND OORDONS. 
 
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 " Did you hear the scream ?" inquired the daughter, 
 who was foremost of the three. 
 
 " No," was the cold reply, " our windows are shut." 
 This was said with a dignity he well knew how to 
 assume, and addressing himself to the mistress of the 
 liouse, he added — " Mrs. Smith will pay you for two 
 weeks board when she has finished dressing. 
 
 He stood, showing the women he did so, waiting 
 for them to descend, which they did unwillingly, 
 wondering to each other where the noise could have 
 come from. The servant girl, however, seemed able 
 to solve the mystery, saying ; 
 
 " It is just them Crawford's ; they are always at 
 something ; I saw the oldest boy kick the new girl 
 last night in the back yard ; she is a green one, or she 
 would have him in the police for it ; I dont know 
 what girls is at to serve the like of them, but no one 
 stops more than a month in their house any how." 
 
 " It's just them," returned the landlady readily, as 
 if the turn things had taken, removing the unseemly 
 noise from her own house to her neighbours, was a 
 pleasant one ; " I opened all the low back windows, and 
 the basement door, and the gallery one, to let the 
 fresh air into the house about a half an hour ago ; 
 its hard enough people cant open their own basement 
 windows without being disturbed by the like of ihem, 
 quarrelling and fighting ; and us paying a hundred 
 and twenty pounds for the house, besides taxes ; I 
 think Mr. Jones should look for quieter neighbours to 
 put beside decent people, especially as he knows we 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 289 
 
 Y'Hl 
 
 anaake our bread by our house ; I'm glad at any rate 
 the Smiths did'ut hear it ; she's such a hateful proud 
 up-setting thing, she would have been sure to say it 
 was in the house." 
 
 Captain Percy walked rapidly along in the direction 
 of the Mountain, so that he might be alone, and 
 thereby be better able to calm down the anger still 
 raging within his bosom ; he had before this come to 
 the knowledge that his wife's temper was not one 
 which would bear much tampering with ; this would 
 have given him little trouble but for the fact, which 
 in her anger she had unwittingly disclosed, that she 
 was aware of certain past transactions of his, which 
 until now he had believed her entirely ignorant of; 
 how she had acquired this information was one 
 question he could not answer, how much she knew 
 was another. It was true, there were letters in his 
 possession, which, joined to the knowledge she had 
 of their daily life in India and New- York, would 
 have taught her much that would be dangerous to 
 his safety, in case a breach should take place between 
 Abby and himself, and that would be inimical to his 
 peace as her husband under any circumstances ; but 
 these letters were so safely guarded, it was next to 
 impossible she could have any access to them; 
 besides if they were placed openly under her eye, 
 was it at all likely that one of such a flighty, stirring 
 disposition, would, from no other motive than idle 
 curiosity, take the trouble of deciphering letters, 
 many of them eight pages long, and nearly all 
 
 T 
 
n 
 
 290 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 ,it I' 
 
 written in the cramped unreadable hand of an old 
 woman ? no, no, he dismissed the thought as one 
 wholly untenable ; the probability was, that she had 
 merely suspected that such might have been the 
 case, or more likely still, the words uttered in her 
 anger, might have been a vague accusation, such as 
 low bred people threaten each other with ; this was 
 evidently the case when she said " he might have 
 poisoned his wife." That transaction was only a few 
 hours old ; no human being had either seen him 
 come or go ; the birds of the air could not carry the 
 matter. 
 
 The longer he reasoned with himself, the more- 
 thoroughly he was convinced that the whole affair 
 was a coincidence of speech ; that to vent her rage 
 she had accused him unconsciously of the crimes of 
 which he was guilty ; however he determined in 
 future, to be more guarded how he v\rould excite his 
 wife's irascibility of temper while he remained with 
 her ; since she became his wife she had never been 
 known as other than Mrs. Smith, except on one occa-^ 
 sion, when his officious friend Morrison had written 
 their joint names in the lobby book at Kay's Hotel ; 
 he was getting very tired of the life of constant shifts 
 to which his poverty obliged him to have resort ; the 
 recrimination and ill temper to which he was subject 
 at home being certainly not the least disagreeable 
 part of it ; and now that he was rid of Tiny, and all 
 trouble on that score would be gone in a couple of 
 days, he would at once, on the receipt of his sister's 
 
I 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 201 
 
 W 
 
 ith 
 been 
 occa- 
 ritten 
 lotel ; 
 shifts 
 the 
 ubject 
 eeabW 
 md all 
 pie of 
 sister's- 
 
 letter, leave Ahby to " paddle her own canoe," as he 
 graphically expressed it to himself; he did not Ihitter 
 himself she would be inconsolable for his loss ; that 
 aspect of ihings had passed away ; the place in the 
 shop she had spoken of, might prove a very good 
 turn up for her, but in the meantime, in case that 
 she really knew more than he cared she should, she 
 must be kept in as good humor as possible ; and 
 as a first means to getting this up, he would now 
 go to the railway depot, pay the charges on the 
 trunks, and have them sent to her at once. lie well 
 knew from past experience, that she was dying with 
 anxiety to show her velvets, silks and laces, (nearly 
 all of which were gifts of Lady Gordon to her 
 daughter) to the American friend she ha,d picked up 
 within the last ten days, and whom he expected her 
 to quarrel with ere the next ten had joined the last. 
 
 Following out his intention of sending Abby her 
 luggage, he retraced his steps, and remembering 
 that he had locked her in to prevent a confidential 
 communication with her friend, the American lady, 
 on the subject of his violence, which would have 
 been sure to have taken place had they met ere she 
 had time to cool down a little, he took the direction 
 of the boarding house, in order to open the bed-room 
 door, so that she might receive her trunks, and so 
 have recovered in a small degree from the effects of 
 the late storm, ere he ventured to show himself in 
 person. 
 
 On entering the house, he walked straight up to. 
 
 r li 
 
292 
 
 TlIK OUANI) OUUDONH. 
 
 I- 
 
 if- 
 
 li 
 
 
 ! 
 
 t 
 
 l»is bedroom, and Nortly-' puttini^ tlio koy iu t^i*' Jociv, 
 lio cauliouMly opoiu'd the door Nullicicntly to him^ that 
 liiH wile wm lyinn' UNleep in bedjier lunul bound u]) 
 ill a haudkerohi*'!'; the tied-up IumuI was the least 
 l>leafc!ing part of tlie picture Ixd'ore hiui ; he was 
 aware that lie had qiveu the blow with all his 
 Ktreni^th, and it would be an ugly thing if a doctor 
 had to be sent for. 
 
 AVhilst WMiitinur at the depot, a friend whoso a<> 
 qunintnnee he had made at the billiard la])le, talkcnl 
 of goini? to Lachine next morning, and returning to 
 Montreal in time for breakfast, by sailing down the 
 rapids; this would have been a w^eleome break in 
 the monotony of his present life, yesterday ; to-day ife 
 was hailed as an additional pt^ace-oU'ering to be 
 employed in stilling Abby's wrath ; had he gone 
 yesterday, Abby would have been left at home, it 
 being supposed that he went on business, and in con- 
 sequence it would have appeared neither convenient 
 nor desirable that she should accompany him. 
 
 Finishing his business with the railway official, he 
 betook himself, in company with his friend, to a 
 billiard saloon, whore he w^oii five dollars from a 
 yoTing gentleman, aged twenty years, whom his friend 
 "svas plucking nightly in small sums ; these debts of 
 horn)}' being paid by a system of constant embezzle- 
 ments, which the friend was perfectly aware would 
 end as various other cases of the same kind had done^ 
 by placing the young gentleman within the walls of 
 the penitentiary for a certain number of years , this 
 
of 
 le- 
 lid 
 
 T1IF-: riRANI) (»(»ni)()NH. 
 
 293 
 
 of conrf'o WaN tiilkcd of )>y ilioso inrn who liarl h(^on 
 Iho inoiiHH of KoiKliiijif no inniiy of lh«'Mo ])oyH lo tlio 
 Hiimo ])liuM', NO niniiy to dcnth and doslnu'tion, aH a 
 diHaj^rcoahl*' alliiir, but nHII ii Avas a ilrht nf honor. So 
 w«M*« tlicy •' liotiorahio mon," and as ono victim wont 
 in tliiH way, thoy Not, thotnNolvoN to find another, who 
 njiiyht piovo an equally profitable gxdl. 
 
 C-aptain I'oroy did not N(M>k hiN homo until past ion, 
 and on oiiiorint!;'. saw throu^'h tho opon parlor door, 
 that hiN wil'o waH thoro, droNNod in a violot colored 
 velvet, which had boon lengthened to suit hor j^reater 
 hoi<rHt, by satin trimmin^N of tho Name shade ; pink 
 roNo, in hor hair, and mochlin lace berthe and Hloeve 
 falls, altoiTother pn^sentin^ the appearance of a 
 fashionably droHsed very pretty woman. 
 
 ITo entered with the ^gentlemanly ease he could 
 well adopt when it suited his purpose, bowed, and 
 cxchang-od a few words with the boarders, and then 
 seating- himself by his wife, played with her fan, as 
 if the circumstances under which they last met had 
 been drowned in the waters of Lethe, informing her 
 of the engagement he had made for himself and her, 
 to go to Lachine, in the morning of the ensuing day. 
 
 Abby still stood on her dignity ; although they had 
 quarreled many times and oft during the past three 
 months, when scarcity of money made both cross, 
 yet he had never dared to raise his hand against her 
 until now, and although the possession of her trunks 
 had somewhat made up for the ill-treatment she had 
 received, yet her naturally high spirit determined her 
 
 I m I 
 
 t 
 
 I 
 
 ('i'fi^ 
 
 
 f ' 
 
H ; 5 
 
 1 H 
 
 l-i 
 
 'I' i 
 
 ! I 
 
 * 
 
 I-.- 
 
 |l. 
 
 294 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 ill holding out against his advances for a reconcilia- 
 tion as long as possible, under the circumstances ; 
 and more than all, she knew that the opprobrious 
 terms she had used in her anger were too true ; any 
 respect she had ever entertained for him was gone» 
 and she had made up her mind, since their last inter- 
 view, if there were to be any more poor days, she 
 would not share them. 
 
 He saw that although her caution made her guard 
 against allowing others see that a shade was on her 
 brow, yet he had still to exert himself, in order to 
 regain his place in her favor, a favor which for the 
 present at least, was absolutely necessary, in case 
 she really had a knowledge of the facts she pretended 
 to ; vanity and a love of display he had cause to 
 know as her greatest foibles ; the piano was open, 
 but unemployed ; Captain Percy walked towards the 
 instrument, and lightly touching a few chords, asked 
 a lady who sat near, what he should play for her ? 
 she declared herself without choice, admitting at 
 same time she was passionately fond of all music. 
 
 Now was his time to please Abby by feeding her 
 vanity ; he was the most gentlemanly as well as the 
 most accomplished man in the room, and turning 
 round on the music stool so as to face his wife, he 
 asked, while he looked admiringly in her face — 
 
 •' Shall I sing your song, dearest ?" 
 
 "Without waiting for a reply, he turned again to the 
 instrument; and playing a brilliant introduction, 
 poured forth the words of a fashionable love-song, 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 295 
 
 the air of which was rarely beautiful ; he sang and 
 l)layed in his most effective style, as he had never 
 troubled himself to do since he was Abby's husband. 
 
 His hearers were in raptures, even the gentlemen 
 <;ondescended to praise his music ; now was his 
 time, and going up to Abby, who he saw was 
 listening with a proud pleased air, to the praises 
 showered upon him, he took her hand with a gallant 
 air, saying, 
 
 " Now I have sung your song, you must sing 
 mine ; dont take off your gloves, I will play for you." 
 
 And leading her to the piano, he played and sang 
 with her a little Italian love-song he had himself 
 taught her, taking care that with his own strong 
 voice, he covered her defects. 
 
 The effect was magical ; if his hearers were pleased 
 before, they were perfectly charmed now. Mrs. 
 Smith was eagerly questioned why she did not* 
 before let them know she sung so beautifully, and 
 besiejred with entreaties to favor them with another 
 
 song. 
 
 " I am sorry " said he, taking her hand, and 
 playing with it as he spoke, *' that I cannot allow 
 Mrs. Smith to sing again to-night ; she has been 
 •suflering all the early part of the evening from 
 severe headache, occasioned, I am sorry to say, by 
 my own indiscretion ; it was not fair in me to ask 
 her to exert herself as she has done ; Mrs. Smith's 
 voice is one, as you have heard, of very high order, 
 but her constitution is delicate, and hence in giving 
 
 I M 
 
 » 
 
 ill 
 
 till 
 
 
 
206 
 
 • TllK OUAND aORDONS. 
 
 M 
 
 5 
 
 s« 
 
 
 n 
 
 4\l 
 
 ii'M 
 
 plonsnro to otluM's l>y hor power of soiijv, sho fro- 
 quonily sull'ors lierscll ; })osi(l(>s h(»r luiinro in i»xciiabl<\ 
 and woro hIio Io mvj; ni»'ain, tho oxoriion would 
 probably brini»' on a norvouH attack." 
 
 ])ra\viiic^ Inn* hand wilhiu his arm an ho ispoko, ho 
 iiKjuirod 8olYly, yot taking* caro that ho shovdd be 
 hoard by all prosont, 
 
 ♦'Shall wo roliro, my love? it is j^'ottini^ lato, and 
 3^011 know you have pronii.«od to aocompany mo ta 
 Lachino tomorrow, at an early hour." 
 
 His triumph was comploto ; slu^ was an objoct ol 
 admiration and interest to all in the house, and she 
 owed it all to him ; this, her greaiest ambition, to bo 
 admired, to be thought an accomplished lady, hjid 
 been gratilied to tho utmost ; it' she could not forget 
 the alFair of tho morning, it was at least for tho 
 ^ present forgiven, and would not bo even alluded to 
 until tho disagreeable reminiscence w^as brought 
 forth by some sharp re^iroof of his, occasioned, by tho 
 non-observance of little conventionalities, which poor 
 Abby had never been taught, and which probably 
 no oiu> except himself ever observed she was lacking' 
 in ; alas ! for poor Abby, her husband had been 
 born and bred in a phase of society where such 
 punctilios, from habit, become a second nature, and 
 now, that from many causes all the irritable in his 
 disposition was every moment alert, such dere- 
 lictions from the usages of polite society, or even the 
 want of that repose of manner, which he considered 
 necessary to the demeanor of a lady, grated harshly 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 297 
 
 on foeliiif^s hut too koniily alive ; in Iho days of lii» 
 courtwhip, and courtHhip thwio was to bo dono, ho 
 had to «iM;k Ahby'a I'avor aw soduloiiNly, altliouj^h 
 und(3r a diUeront chararstur, aw ever ho had dono that 
 ol'ljady CJordon'H davij^htor, but in llioso dayw her 
 faultH of either oniiHsion or counninHion did not conio 
 under his eye ; the lirHt time ho ever sat at tal)le 
 witii Abby, was the day of his marringe, when on 
 their return from ehurch, they breakfasted together. 
 
 llis surprise was extreme then, as on many alter 
 occasions hie disgust was intense, when despite all the 
 ellbrts of a polite waiter, she would heap egg-cup, 
 laden with its white shelly burden, bread, butter, 
 egg spoon and knil'e, upon the same plate ; such 
 delinquencies were never left uncommc^ited upon, 
 and the half smiling rebuke, administered with 
 honeyed words in those halcyon days, was met by 
 a corresponding good-natured laugh, dancing from 
 bright black eyes, and setting off red prettily formed 
 lips and white teeth, making half amends for the 
 incessantly committed fault. 
 
 Up to the day on which Captain Percy was a 
 listener to Lady Gordon's will, he had believed with 
 the most simple faith, that his mother-in-law had na 
 power, even if she had the inclination, to will away 
 her money and land from his children, and once 
 theirs, he had little fear that by the help of his 
 sapient friend, Mr. Morrison, it would sooner or later 
 pass into his own hands ; this faithful ally had in 
 the mean time helped him to various sums, obtained^ 
 
 It I 
 
■■ii ■ I 
 
 ' 
 
 ' H 
 
 298 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 it is true, at a ruinous percentage, but with Captain 
 Percy, the present moment was all in all. 
 
 From the time he knew he was entirely left to his 
 own resources in providing for himself and Abby, 
 as well as for the few dollars required to pay Tiny's 
 board, his temper and disposition had undergone 
 a radical change ; discrepancies of Abby's which 
 previously were passed over wath a frown or an 
 impatient pshaw ! were now looked on as matters 
 of grave import ; every annoyance became a grie- 
 Tance, consequently their lives were now a constant 
 scene of ill timed sharp reproof on the one side, and 
 of insolent rejoinder on the other, generally fiiishing 
 off with " I think myself as good as you," allusions 
 to " pride and poverty," and such like. 
 
 On the following morning they were early astir, 
 in order to be in time for the trip to Lachine, and as 
 Ave have seen, thereby almost came in contact with 
 Tiny and her Indian guide on their way to the 
 hosi)ital. 
 
 On board the steamboat, Abby's attention was 
 much attracted by Baptiste, the Indian pilot, who 
 always takes charge of the steamboats in passing 
 over the rapids, no white man having yet been found 
 able to perform this hazardous office. Although 
 she had now been a considerable time in Montreal, 
 the Indian met in the morning was the first red man 
 she had ever seen ; to her eyes, unaccustomed to the 
 Ted skin, Baptiste and he seemed one and the same 
 person, and she inquired of her husband what had 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 299 
 
 become of the woman who was with him in the 
 waggon. 
 
 " What woman ? What waggon ? " inquired he. 
 ^' You have never seen that man before." 
 
 " Why, yes," replied she, "do you not remember 
 when we left the house in the morning he was pass- 
 ing, driving a waggon with a woman in it." 
 
 " Certainly not ; I saw no one," was the reply " It 
 could not be this Indian, how did you think it was 
 he?" 
 
 " Because the man I saw in the morning was ex« 
 actly the same as this ; long black hair, black eyes, 
 brown skin and a broad nose," adding, after a pause 
 and another stare, which took in Baptiste's person as 
 well as his fcice, " his hands are just the same ; I noticed 
 them when he held the reins ; they looked so black, 
 just like they do now." 
 
 " Was it an Indian woman he was driving in the 
 waggon ? " asked Captain Percy. 
 
 " I dont know. She had on a black crape veil ; do 
 the Indian women here wear black crape veils? " 
 
 As Abby in her simplicity made the inquiry of her 
 indignant lord, who bit his lip in anger at the 
 ignorance her question betrayed, her own thoughts 
 went back to the Indian women she had seen in 
 Madras, with white cotton coverings falling from 
 their heads over their persons, inwardly comparing 
 the erect figures of the latter with the bent dowu 
 form she had seen in the morning. 
 
 ■fsKf 
 
^ r? 
 
 300 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 ■,m 
 
 ',\V' 
 
 *;" 
 
 Captain Percy drew his wife from the position they 
 occupied near the Indian pilot, where his friend of 
 the bilUard saloon was enjoying himself, laughing- 
 over Mrs. Percy's original ideas on Indian costume ; 
 he had his own motives for questioning her more 
 fully on the Indian she had seen in the morning, and 
 preferred doing so without the presence of a third 
 person. 
 
 " No, of course they dont wear black crape veils ; 
 they wear blankets over their heads, in much the 
 same way as ihe Ayahs you have seen in India wear 
 the white. What direction did the waggon take, you 
 saw passing in the morning ? Did it go from West 
 to East, or from East to West ? " 
 
 " It went the same way as we did ; it passed the 
 door just as I came out of the little garden gate ; you 
 had gone a good way down the street, so that I had 
 to hurry after you, or I would have taken a better 
 look at them." 
 
 " Did you observe of what color the horse was ? '* 
 *' Yes, it V/as a kind of whiteish grey, almost 
 white ? " 
 
 " Were you able to see the woman's face at all ? 
 Was it pale?" 
 
 " I could not see it at all , that was why I tHought 
 she was an Indian." 
 
 " Did she look little, or tall like you ? What kind 
 of clothes had she ? " 
 
 "Oh! she was not so tall as me, I dont think; I 
 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS 
 
 801 
 
 could not see her clothes, she was covered up by one 
 of those dirty-looking fur things we see with the 
 habitants at market, they call them buffalo robes." 
 
 He asked no more questions ; he was provoked 
 with himself for having felt any interest on the sub- 
 ject ; it could not have been the only Indian in whom 
 or whose motions he had any concern ; instead of com- 
 ing to Montreal, he was most likely making arrange- 
 ments for Tiny's burial, and he inwardly hoped he 
 would bury her in the same primitive manner as he had 
 done the child ; Mamondagokwa's horse was dark- 
 brown, not grey or white, and he inwardly said, " I 
 wish I was gone from this detestable place,where I start 
 at every shadow that crosses my path ; I hope ere 
 another week is over, I will have my money from Eng- 
 land, and the day it reaches my hand, I shall be gone. 
 
 After having breakfasted on their return, Abby 
 went to give an account of the pleasant trip she had 
 had to her American friend, while Captain Percy be- 
 took himself to town on business, that is to say, he 
 went to pass the time between breakfast and dinner 
 with his friend of the billiard saloon, and having 
 enjoyed himself, and lost five dollars to his friend, 
 who at this early time of the day had no one else to 
 pluck, he went to the livery stable to engage a horse 
 and buggy for an early hour on the morrow, to carry 
 him on his last visit to Isle Jesus, being determined 
 to finish this annoyance before the arrival of the British 
 mail, which was to enable him to leave Canada. 
 
 During the afternoon, Abby begged of him to 
 
 ; ■ 1 
 
 r I 
 
 »! 
 
 :1| 
 
i 
 
 m 
 
 \ii 
 
 I i 
 I 1 
 
 U.'] 
 
 302 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 accompany her in a shopping expedition, to choose a 
 bonnet, to which, as he desired to keep her in good 
 humor, he at once agreed. 
 
 On entering the milliner's shop they were shewn 
 into an inner room, where a lady in mourning, 
 evidently with a like purpose as their own, stood in 
 front of a large pier glass, fitting on a bonnet, which 
 a milliner girl w^as assuring her, made her look 
 •' quite charming and so young." 
 
 Captain Percy's and Abby's attention was at once 
 attracted towards the person they heard addressed 
 thus, and involuntarily they both looked at once at 
 the face reflected in the mirror . at that moment the 
 lady took off the bonnet, and handed it to the girl by 
 her side ; standing thus for a second or two with her 
 head and face quite exposed, Captain Percy's earnest 
 look, as he examined her reflected face, was imme- 
 diately observed by the looker in the glass. He 
 knew her now ; there was no mistaking that face, 
 that look ; it was the same young woman he had 
 seen looking at him upwards of a year past from the 
 Cabinet room in Leith ! That she recognized him 
 was as plainly visible in her face, as if she had turned 
 round and called him by his name ; he stood as il 
 transfixed to the spot, his eyes resting on her face, 
 and plainly expressing part of what his heart felt — a 
 vague fear of detection, through this woman, of the 
 crimes he one hour since hoped were hid from man 
 forever. And stranger still, in Abby's face, (who had 
 now taken up a x)osition in front of the glass beside 
 
; >\ 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS 
 
 8oa 
 
 the stranger), was expressed a recognition of the 
 other, commingled with some strong emotion of na 
 agreeable kind. 
 
 Without removing her hat, his wife came towards 
 Captain Percy, saying 
 
 " There are none of the bonnets here that please 
 me ; shall we go ?" Her face flushed, and an uneasy 
 look there, surprised, as much as the face seen in the 
 glass, troubled him. 
 
 It by no means suited his purpose to leave the 
 shop until the lady whose face he had now satisfied 
 himself he knew, also went ; he determined that he 
 would follow her footsteps, and if possible find out 
 what brought her to Canada ; that his wife knew 
 something of her there could be little doubt from 
 what he had just witnessed, but he could postpone 
 his inquiries in that quarter to a more convenient 
 season, and telling her in a low voice that he wanted 
 to remain yet a few minutes in the shop, he in a 
 louder key desired her to choose some flowers for 
 evening wear, saying. 
 
 " I am sick of all those you have , I have looked at 
 them so often " 
 
 His words seemed to reassure Abby, and she was 
 soon deep in the mysteries of comparing and mixing 
 pink roses with jasmine, and deep purple violets 
 with both, while her husband, by way of improving 
 his time, kept up a little running conversation with 
 the young woman who was serving her. 
 
 '* "Who is that lady in black, who is trying on a 
 
 I 
 
 . 1 
 
 
304 
 
 THE OEAND GORDONS. 
 
 N '^? 
 
 : 
 
 bonnet in the room inside the shop ?" was his iirst 
 essay 
 
 " I do not know, I'm sure." * 
 
 " She seems a stranger here " 
 
 *' Perhaps she is ; I dont know " 
 
 * Do you think Mrs. Dempster knows her V' 
 
 " I really dont know." 
 
 •• Will you go and ask her if she knows the lady's 
 name, and whether she has her address ? my reason 
 for inquiring* is that I think she is the widow of a 
 friend of mine." 
 
 The girl was gone for a moment, and returned, 
 saying that her mistress had never seen the lady 
 before, but if she left her address the gentleman 
 could have it. Just as she delivered her message, 
 the lady in question passed through the shop on her 
 way out, and Captain Percy, whispering to his wife 
 that he had an engagement, took his leave at once, 
 turning in the direction which Miss St. Clare (whom 
 the reader must already have recognized) had taken 
 
 Miss St. Clare turned towards Bleury street, and 
 there entered a chemist's shop, Captain Percy waiting 
 patiently outside ; in a few minutes the street cars 
 from Craig street came in view ; a young man issued 
 from the chemist's shop, and hailing the cars, stood 
 at the shop door until he had bowed her out. 
 
 Captain Percy would fain have asked the same ques- 
 tions here, he had put in the millinery shop in Notre 
 Dame street, but by doing so, he would have missed 
 
■I 
 
 THE GRAND OORDONS. 
 
 80.1 
 
 iho chance of finding' out where the yonni? hidy 
 lived, which he mig'ht do by following her ; he 
 preferred the latter plan, and taking his seat on the 
 same side of the car as she had already seated herself, 
 he endeavoured, by looking steadily through the open 
 door of the car, to disabuse her mind of an idea of 
 being followed, should she have taken notice of his 
 entering after her. y 
 
 They rode until the cars turned from Bleury into 
 St. Catherine street, where, in the vicinity of the 
 English Cathedral, Miss St. Clare got out, followed 
 by Captain Percy ; she walked leisurely until meet- 
 ing a gentleman dressed as a clergyman, she shook 
 hands with him, stood and conversed for several 
 minutes, a most awkward thing for the one who was 
 dodging her steps; the gentleman turned in the 
 direction in which she was walking, and they both 
 walked on until coming to a handsome row of large 
 stone houses, they ascended the steps of one in the 
 TOW. the lady entering, and the gentleman bidding 
 her goodbye, saying as he did so, loud enough to be 
 heard by Captain Percy — 
 
 " I will call to bring you home early in the even- 
 
 ing. 
 
 Captain Percy walked a little way up the street, 
 until he found that the gentleman who had escorted 
 Miss St. Clare was out of sight, and then ascending 
 the steps of the house into which she entered, rang 
 the door-bell, and inquired of a smart-looking Irish 
 
 U 
 
 m 
 
vrw 
 
 1 
 
 
 I 
 
 jMi 
 
 JM 
 
 
 800 
 
 THE Oil AND GOllDONS 
 
 girl who answered his summons, " If Mr. Jones lived 
 
 here ? " 
 
 "No," replied she, " he lives in number five" 
 This would have been a poser for most people, not 
 
 so I'or Captain Percy , his cunning wit giving a 
 
 sharpness that men of more sense and understanding 
 
 do not possess. 
 
 " Does he not live here ?" replied he, as if in sur- 
 prise at the answer given him. " I imagined I saw 
 Miss Jones enter this house as I turned the corner; 
 I surely could not have been mistaken, she seemed- 
 to me to wear the same black dress she wore 
 yesterday and the same fringed parasol. " 
 
 " She is not here," replied the girl, with a com- 
 pression of the lips w^hich Cai)tain Percy did not 
 think augured well for his receiving the informal ion 
 he wanted, yet he determined to venture on another' 
 and more direct mode of questioning, and taking out 
 his jiocket book, he opened it, as if to sliovv he would 
 pay for the trouble he was giving, he said with a 
 suave politeness, as if he was addressing a countess — 
 
 " Will you have the goodness to tell me the name 
 of the young lady who entered just before I rang ; 
 she was accompanied by a clergyman." 
 
 " Oh ! that's what yoivre at, is it ?" replied the 
 girl, her face lighting up va :ith anger as she spoke ; 
 " no, I wont tell you fur young lady's name, you 
 impudent blackguard, and you can tell them that 
 sent you, if you come again to this door, Pll set 
 the house dog after you ;" she then slammed tho 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS, 
 
 807 
 
 door in his face, leaving him rather crest-fallen out- 
 side. • 
 
 lie would have remained in the vicinity until 
 Miss St. Clare's return, which ho kiunv from what 
 her companion said, would be early in the evening*, 
 hut a slight drizzhng rain which had commenced 
 while they were in the cars, was now biddini*' fair 
 to })e a heavy storm, and one from the appearance 
 of the sky, likely to continue for some hours; tliere 
 was no shop nor other avaihible place of shelter 
 nearer than the next street, and that would take 
 him entirely out of sight of the house she was now 
 in ; his remaining here was out of the question, but 
 before betaking himself to his home, he would call 
 at the chemist's in Bleury street ; perhaps he would 
 have better luck there. But no, after taking the 
 trouble to walk in the rain nearly half a mile out ol 
 the way of his boarding house, he was told they 
 knew nothing whatever of the lady in black, whom 
 one of the young men remembered distinctly having 
 hailed the cars for, and at same time having remarked 
 Captain Percy to enter just after her; The master of 
 the shop was not i)resent, and the three young gentle- 
 men who were, each facetiously suggested a mode of 
 his own by which the mystery of the name of the 
 young lady in black could be solved ; one declaring, 
 were he in the gentleman's (Captain Percy's) place, 
 he should certainly have a man, without a moment's 
 delay, to go through the principal streets with a belK 
 which he would particularly desire should be kept 
 
 I 
 
 ¥ i*i 
 
308 
 
 THE GRAND OORDONS. 
 
 m 
 
 ringing, so as to attract the ladies to the windows, 
 •ollering a handsome reward to any one who would 
 give the least, clue to the name of the lady in the 
 black gown. 
 
 Captain Percy, casting an indignant glance on 
 the impertinent speaker, approached the door, but 
 his probable desire of egress had been foreseen and 
 forestalled by the wit of the shop, a tall young 
 gentleman, standing six feet in his stocking soles, who 
 having turned the key in the lock, placed it on a shelf 
 in the vicinity of the door, so high that said six feet 
 had to stand on tiptoe in order to reach it ; having* 
 accomplished his purpose, six feet, with a wink to 
 his friends behind the counter, placed his arms 
 i.kimbo, his spread out hands resting on his hips, 
 and leaning a little forward, so as to make his face 
 come into a closer proximity with Captain Percy's, 
 and entirely ignoring the reiterated request of that 
 gentleman to be allowed to depart, said, with a 
 theatrically grave air — 
 
 " My dear Sir, let me assure you, all the sympathies 
 of my nature are aroused in your behalf; heed not 
 the simple boy who has just advised you to resort to 
 a man and bell to find your beloved ; no, let us iiy 
 to Prince's, and entreat of him to give us his band, 
 at least his trumpet, drum and cornet, to accompany 
 you, in your search through the rain, for the lady 
 in black ; you will then perambulate during the 
 Avhole hours of darkness the principal streets, wildly 
 calling on the lady in black to put an end to your 
 misery, by declaring her name." 
 
1 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 309 
 
 During this scene, Captain Percy made various 
 attempts to make himself heard, by iirst one a.id then 
 another of the clerks, declaring that he would return 
 on the morrow% and make their cojiduct known to 
 their employer. 
 
 This threat was received by a shout of laughter 
 from the three clerks, and an earnest request from 
 six feet, that he w^ould not fail to bring the lady in 
 black with him. 
 
 At this juncture it is possible that the lads were in 
 some way aware that their master was not far from 
 their vicinity, as six feet, hurriedly taking the key 
 from its elevated position, opened the door, almost 
 thrusting Captain Percy out, in his hurry to get rid 
 of his visitor, while the others seemed, as if by magic, 
 to be busy, quiet and grave, as their employer entered 
 by a back door, which communicated with the house 
 above. 
 
 The short, fair, pompous looking man, and the 
 name of the lady in black, formed a fund of amuse- 
 ment for some days to the young gentlemen in Mr. 
 Leith's shop, that is, in the moments of leisure, when 
 the Boss, as they called their master, was absent ; six 
 feet, in iiarticnijr. vho was allowed, even by the 
 other clerks, t«-» be a lady killer, would, at least a 
 dozen timoj a day, throw himself int'> a theatrical 
 attitude, and v ^^'yech the others to " .. ^ ulge to him 
 the name of the lady in black," which witticism, of 
 course, as in luty bound, the others received with 
 shouts of uproarious laughter. 
 
 f'\i 
 
 id 
 
 'il 
 
' 
 
 810 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 ?» 
 
 Captain Percy's reflections, as he took his lonely 
 way towards Isle Jesus in the grey light of the early 
 morning, were not of the most pleasant kind ; he 
 went a day earlier than he had told Tiny he would, 
 and he did so, because he had. from behind the cedar 
 tree, seen the fatal bottle (the contents of which were 
 to hurry her from time to eternity) in jier hands ; h« 
 had also listened to those sad words, " It is an easy 
 way out of all my trouble ;" words, -^vhich w^ould 
 have filled a stranger with horror, were to his g^dlty 
 soul as balm in G-ilead, assuring him that A'ery scon 
 his crime of immuring the wife of his youth in a 
 living grave, among half savages, would be hid for- 
 ever in the grave where her poisoned body lay, and 
 with her death, his second crime of bigamy would be 
 no more ; but even with this death, which he had so 
 long wished for, compassed — and he had no doubt 
 whatever that she lay stift* and stark somewhere, 
 there were other things that stirred uj) anxieties he 
 could not allay ; he had already used up nearly half 
 of the money promised to the Indian in the event 
 of Tiny's death ; he knew the covetous and avari- 
 cious nature of the people he w^ould have to deal 
 with, yet what was he to do ? the British Mail day 
 had come, and brought neither money nor letter ; ere 
 this the Indian had doubtless gone to the Cure, and 
 i'ound that the promised money was no longer in his 
 hands ; he could not risk leaving him any longer 
 without at least a part of it. 
 
 Again, there was that face so strangely seen, 
 
 I 
 
 miA''- 
 
m 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS, 
 
 311 
 
 reflected in the milliner's shop yesterday, as he had 
 
 seen it over a year ago in a drawing-room in distant 
 
 Europe ; The expression of dislike, mingled with a 
 
 certain innate fear, which passed OA-'er the girl's face, 
 
 as she recognized iiim in the mirror, joined to the 
 
 furtive look of annoyance her face again w^ore, as she 
 
 passed him in leaving the cars, could be explained 
 
 in no other way than tha* he or his affairs were 
 
 connected with her presence in Montreal, and that 
 
 she wished to avoid his notice ; he had not yet 
 
 questioned Abby as to her knowledge of the stranger, 
 
 but he w^ould do so on his return, when his mind 
 
 Avould be more at ease, when he knew the bod// was 
 
 l)uriod. and the Indian pacified by the fifty dollars 
 
 he had brought to give him, and the promise of the 
 
 rest being brought soon ; How Abby had come to 
 
 know this stranger was to him inexplicable ; she, 
 
 with his knowledge, having no opportunity of making 
 
 the acquaintance of any one except those who lived 
 
 in the boarding-houses they from time to time 
 
 had been immates of; more extraordinary still 
 
 seemed the disagreeable feeling of half-dread, which 
 
 "^he sudden appearance of this young woman evidently 
 
 v^xciled in her mind, prompting her to leave the 
 
 place, without ever trying to find the bonnet they 
 
 h- d come to purchase. 
 
 Such was the current of his thoughts as he rode 
 along ; he passed the aiiberge without slacking his 
 speed, and as he came in sight of the priest's house, 
 spurred his horse into a quicker pace, in case he 
 
 \ i 
 
 m^ 
 
 i,-.-« 
 
 ^:il 
 
312 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 > ! 
 
 might be hailed by the Cure, and obliged to listen io 
 a long story of the Indian's rage, when he found the 
 money was gone ; he would know all from the Indian 
 himself in a couple of hours more, and he would not 
 be bored now by hearing it from a third person, and 
 of all others from a garrulous old village j)riest. 
 
 He drove on to the shdlter of the ruined cottage^ 
 where he tied his horse and buggy, leaving the horse 
 loose enough to enjoy a breakfast on the rich purple^ 
 clover which grew in profusion by the old wall, and 
 thus i)revei him from being restive until his return 
 from the hu 
 
 As he neared il :. place which he believed to havfr 
 been the scene of his wife's suicide, even his hardness. 
 of heart and levity of foeling experienced a hush - 
 he determined, instead of going round by the usual 
 way in entering the cottage, to pass by the double 
 cedar, and thus be able to see by the window, before 
 entering, whether the body still lay there, which he 
 earnestly hoped was not the case; ..he hour was 
 early, few of the French peasants, a proverbially 
 early people, being yet abroad ; the morning was gray 
 and dull, with a slight chill in the atmosphere, which 
 was more felt, by the heavy" dew of the previous 
 night still lying thick on the long grass. 
 
 Approaching the window, he found it shut, and 
 on trying to open it, could not succeed without mak- 
 ing more noise than he cared to do ; all he could 
 learn by putting his face close to the coarse small 
 panes of glass was, that if the bed was still there, thvi 
 
WW 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 813 
 
 quill, with its little squares of brown and yellow 
 calico, could not be seen. 
 
 He lingered for some minutes by the window, as 
 if he would put off as long as possible, the turbulent 
 scene with the Indian and his squaw, he was sure 
 would ensue on his entrance ; at last provoked with his 
 own pusillanimity he mentally exclaimed " What are 
 the old savages to me ? Tiny is dead and buried ; 
 that is one thing sure, or she would be in this room ; 
 they will be glad enough, or they ought to be, to 
 come to my terms," and approaching the low door 
 of the hut, he mechanically laid his hand on the latch 
 to admit himself. 
 
 The latch moved as usual, but the door did not 
 open ; he shook it but without elFect, and fancying 
 the old people must be asleep, he knocked so loudly 
 that the hollow echoes resounded from the cottage. 
 
 " Mamondagokwa! Mamondagokwa!" he called out 
 o\ er and over again in loud accents, but no answer,, 
 except the former hollow echo, came to his call ; he 
 now betook himself a second time to the window of 
 his wife's room, and after a little exertion, succeeded 
 in driving it in ; the room was emiity, nothing to be 
 seen but the brown rafters and dark walls ; a cat 
 jumped up on the window sill, and sprang past him 
 into the oj^en air ; he put his head into the room^ 
 peering in all directions, but nothing was to be seen ; 
 the cat who had just made her escape, seemed to be 
 the only living thing in or about the place ; all sorts 
 of wild ideas came trooping into his mind ; perhapa 
 
 HI 
 
 4 
 
 il 
 
314 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 mt- 
 
 his wife's body was in the other apartment, and that 
 the Indians finding the money was no longer in the 
 Cure's possession, had gone to Montreal -*o got the 
 Protestant priest to bury it, was his first thought ; but 
 then he argued, why denude the room of the furni- 
 ture? Again, being devoid of means to buy a coffin 
 or pay the other burial expenses, perhaps they had 
 shut up the body in their own aj^artment, and gone 
 off from the place altogether ; their habits were so 
 erratic they probably might have left the hut thus, 
 intending never to return. 
 
 This view of the case was at first hailed as one 
 wiiich would free him at once from all further 
 trouble, but a moment's consideration sufficed to 
 show hirr that sooner or later a dead body so left, 
 must be loniul by some one, and then the English 
 made an unwarrantable fuss about such things, there 
 W'ould be such rii»id investioations as might ulti- 
 mately lead, notwithstanding all ^he precautions he 
 had taken, to a discovery ox the share he had in the 
 matter ; the fiice seen the day before, mixing itself up 
 largely in the fear he entertained of one day being 
 called on by his brother-men to say what had become 
 of the woman he had left in the Indian hut. 
 
 Reasoning thus, he determined to break the door 
 of the hut, and so learn at once whether or not there 
 was aught there likely to bring mischief to him in 
 the future ; this was no difficult matter, a few well 
 aimed blows sent it off" its leather hinges into the hut; 
 here all was as in the other division, bare walls, 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 315 
 
 black rafters, with the addition of a heap of ashes 
 and a few half burnt lo^s where the fire had been ; 
 he turned over these with a strange curiosity ; they 
 were still ignited, telling him that the hut had not 
 been many hours vacant. 
 
 " Probably," soliloquized he, " the Indians have 
 gone with the grey dawn by the light of which I 
 left Montreal ; how innately stupid of me not to have 
 come yesterday ; from what I saw I might have been 
 sure she would have been dead in half an hour ; 
 if instead of trifling away my time in jaunting to 
 Lachine, I had come out b-jre to attend to what con- 
 cerned me, all this aftair would have been settled, 
 my mind at ease, and my body at liberty to go when 
 and w^here I pleased ; the ill-luck which has followed 
 me all my life is at work now ; mv evil spirit is always 
 too alert, or too inert ; I am in a desperate hurry 
 when I should rest on my oars and let things take 
 their course, but when I should set spurs to my 
 «teed and ride for my life, I lie in the sun and smoke 
 my cigar." 
 
 He turned and left the cottage, and almost at his 
 feet he beheld what with his preconceived certainty 
 of her death, he at once concluded to be Tiny's 
 
 grave. 
 
 A patch of the ground just in front of the door 
 and beyond the cedar tree had evidently been turned 
 up within the last hour or two ; it w^as about six or 
 seven feet long, and proportionally broad, just such 
 a pit as an Indian would be supposed to make that 
 
310 
 
 THE (JllAND OUllDONS. 
 
 he might bury his dead ; it was loosely and carelessly 
 done ; the i)ieces ol' turf, instead oi' being laid in order 
 on the grass alter the body was placed there, and the 
 rest of the mould was put in, were thrown, some oi' 
 them side-ways, some upside down, with their rooti^ 
 turned ui^wards, not the least eflbrt having been 
 made to conceal the fact that a grave was there : Had 
 he been less eager to cllect an entrance into the cot- 
 tage he must have seen this mound half an hour before, 
 and with his natural levity, not\vithstandiiig that he 
 conceived himself almost standing upon and looking 
 at the new-made grave of one whom in life he had 
 cruelly injured, he laughed at the trouble he had 
 taken to gain an entrance into Mamondagokwa's hut, 
 and to make himself heard by that gentleman, whom he 
 now hoped had either gone to the hunting ground, as 
 he knew he was in the habit of doing every Autumn, 
 or else on some expedition to sell his baskets. 
 
 lie felt satisfied that in any case the old Indian 
 and his squaw were both gone on some journey, and 
 his iifty dollars safe in his i^ocket ; they in their 
 wisdom having concluded to take this easy and 
 quickly effected mode of interment, and not having 
 heard of the withdrawal of the money from the 
 Cure's hands, had imagined it would be safe in his 
 keeping until their return. 
 
 He took hold of a bunch of roots forming one of 
 the sods upon the heap of earth, and raised it from its 
 place without an effort, and uttering an oath he cursed 
 the stupidity of the fool who could have left the 
 grave in such an unprotected state as this ; a wind 
 
w 
 
 TlIK (IIIAND CJOIIDONS. 
 
 317 
 
 ><uoli as had occnrrocl two days proriouKly, if it con- 
 Irod its rago horo, would quickly send ovory sod and 
 pavliclo now covcrin*^ it, troopinjL^ abroad throui»li 
 llu' hush, leaving <ixposcd a suspicious looking deal 
 box, or perhaps worse still a white ghastly i'ace. 
 This must not remain so, and divesting himself of his 
 t^oat, he broke off several branches from a neighbor- 
 ing iir tree, which having laid across the grave, ho 
 stamped into the fresh mound, and this completed, 
 covered the whole with larger boughs; even with 
 his best eflbrts it was not so secure as he could wish 
 it to be, yet guilt made him the coward it makes of 
 iill, and he did not dare to put in execution his iirst 
 impulse of going to the habitant Joinnette's farm 
 house to borrow a spade. 
 
 As he finished his work, something glittering in 
 the sun (which was now high in the heavens) 
 attracted his attention, close to the wall of the hut, 
 and going- towards it, he lifted up the blue bottle, 
 the silver top lying back on its hinge, the stopper 
 gone ; He held it up between his eye and the bright 
 sky, not a drop of the deadly liquid it once contained 
 was left ! Another with a heart less hard would 
 have buried it out of his sight in the soft earth at 
 his feet ; not so Bertram Percy, he carefully wiped 
 off with his pocket handkerchief the dew with which 
 the bottle lying among the deep mossy grass under 
 the window was still wet, and having done so, placed 
 it in his vest pocket, saying " Lie there, my friend, 
 you shall have a safer resting place when we pass 
 the Lachapelle Bridge." 
 
 
 
 
i. 
 
 k < 
 
 *■■ 
 
 i; 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 .Mfi 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 *' 
 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 ^RS. Dunbar's house was getting quite full of 
 boarders, and although I, for my own part, 
 '•^^ would have liked better to be among fewer 
 people, yet I felt glad when she informed me (which 
 she never failed to do with a look of pleasure lighting 
 Tip her care-lined face,) that another had been added 
 to her household. 
 
 Mr. Denham had brought two of his own friends, 
 two brothers who were lawyers, who talked politics 
 at breakfast and dinner, and so let us know what 
 the world was doing ; they in turn brought a friend 
 of their own, a Mr. Clement, who was book-keeper to 
 a chemist, and whose income being a good one, and 
 moreover his father a wealthy farmer, paid a liberal 
 board ; he was a great tall man, his head towering- 
 above every one else in the house ; he was moreover 
 -a funny fellow, and kept us in amusement ; he soon 
 became a favorite with all, particularly with Miss 
 Dunbar, whose toilet was now plentifully supplied 
 with essences, flowers, etcetera. 
 
 We had a little parterre in front of the house, and 
 by Mr. Clement's care, this was becoming quite 
 bright, a new pot of geranium, stock, gilly-flower or 
 
'i • 1 
 
 C3 
 
 i'>B 
 
ll .1 
 
 I { 
 
 
 «f 
 
 '1 
 
 ! I 
 
' > 
 
 TUt: UUANl) (loiaxj.NS. 
 
 aii^ 
 
 I' 1 
 I. 'I 
 
 other bright flower beiivg added every day or two; 
 Mr. Cleiiieiit shewed the way, and the two hiwyers 
 and even Mr. Denham, not to be behindhand, each 
 brought an oll'ering. 
 
 My time was now in dan<?er of hanginpc heavily 
 on my hands, and to prevent this in some degree, I 
 proposed talking charge of the parterre, devoting my 
 morning hours before breakfast to watering and 
 weeding the same. 
 
 ^One morning, as I was busy watering my pretty 
 charge, a country waggon passed, driven by an 
 Indian ; this it was that at first attracted my atten- 
 tion, Mr. Denham having offered, only the evening 
 before, to drive me to Caughnawaga, that I might 
 see the Indians there ; as I looked at the Indian, my 
 eyes passed from his dark face to that of the person 
 he was driving at a snail's paci . This was a lady 
 dressed in black, and carefully wrapj^ed round with 
 buffalo robes, her face, (which w^as so white as almost 
 to seem like an alabaster face on a living body), was 
 much exposed by her bonnet being worn at the back 
 of the head, as bonnets used to be two or three years 
 before, her large soft stone grey eyes and pale brown 
 hair, the graceful turn of the head, all reminded me 
 8o forcibly of some familiar face, that I fancy the 
 expression of my own as I looked up to hers, must 
 have told somewhat of the thoughts passing in my 
 mind ; she colored slightly, and as she passed from 
 my sight, busied herself in arranging a thick crape 
 veil over her face ; I felt ashamed of my rudeness 
 
 », 
 
 { I 
 
 M 
 
 t 
 
320 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 in gazing so intensely at a passing stranger, yet for 
 the whole day my mind would revert to the pale 
 face I had seen in the morning, w^ondering and trying 
 to bring to recollection where I had seen it before. 
 
 Hours after the fair vision had passed froAi my 
 sight, I remembered that the face of the morning 
 was one exactly resembling the last portrait sent 
 from India of Mrs Percy, taken in a mourning dress 
 and bonnet, sent to her on the death of her aunt ! 
 I first asked myself, " Could it be possible that this 
 was indeed Mrs. Percy ?" and then my better judg- 
 ment seemed to tell me that such an idea was most 
 preposterous, in fact an utter impossibility ; if she 
 were indeed in life, how would it accord with tjaptain 
 Percy's safety to allow her to be riding, as the lady 
 of the morning evidently was, at her own free will, 
 in the streets of Montreal, with an Indian ? when by 
 applying to any of the clergymen from her own land, 
 several of whom were here, she could be protected 
 until her relativies w^ere informed of her cituation, 
 and brought to her aid ; Oh ! no, the idea was 
 discarded as soon as formed ; it was contrary to all 
 sense, all precedent, and I felt jjleased that the fancied 
 resemblance to the picture did not strike me in the 
 morning, lest I should have laade a fool of myself, 
 by running after and speaking to the stranger. 
 
 The evening previous, in walking along one of 
 the cross streets, I fancied that Captain Percy passed 
 me driving a handsome horse and buggy ; from the 
 time I saw this man in the cars, I had an instinctive 
 
' 
 
 of 
 
 ;ed 
 
 the 
 
 tive 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 321 
 
 dread of him, an impression which was deepened as 
 J fancied he passed me by the evening before ; the 
 person, whether Captain Percy or not, seemed to 
 regard me with a look of innate malice, a feeling, 
 which reason against it as I would, filled me with 
 fear, as if this man, by some inscrutable fate, had the 
 Teins of my destiny in his hands, and would use his 
 power for my destruction. 
 
 Oppressed by such vague terrors which would 
 not leave me, strive as I would against them, it is not 
 much to be wondered at that my dreams followed 
 in the same train of thought, At one time my 
 mother urging me to leave a land where misery was 
 to be my portion, to go home and take care of Ella ; 
 a line of conduct which she always did impress 
 upon me on the night of the British Mail, when 
 Mies Ella's letter was generally fraught with similar 
 -desires. 
 
 In another phase of the visions of the night, Ijady 
 
 Oordon seemed as if standing by my bed, calling 
 
 upon me to " arise and save her child ;" the words 
 
 " arise, arise," (probably spoken by Mrs. Dunbar, 
 
 and intended for the ear of her sleepy and tired 
 
 maid of all work,) being those which broke my 
 
 unquiet slumbers, making me jump out of bed and 
 
 consult my watch, which pointed to five o'clock. It 
 
 was what the French call " grand jour, " and a 
 
 lovely morning, so on the completion of my morning 
 
 toilet and duties, I sought the parterre, that I might 
 
 refresh the flowers waiting for their sweet morning 
 
 V 
 
 i 
 
 It 
 
 ii 
 
 m 
 
322 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 drink of pure water ; All this viewed in connection,, 
 it is not wonderful that the pale passing face in the 
 Indian's cart, dressed in the fashion of the last bonnet 
 sent to Mrs. Percy^^ should also to my fevered imagi- 
 nation, assume her likeness. 
 
 I had an invitation to spend the evening at the 
 house of Doctor Balfour, and previous to going there,, 
 betook myself to a milliner's shop in Notre Dame 
 ctroet, to purchase a bonnet, Mrs. Balfour having* 
 with good natured interest in the appeartr -"> of her 
 countrywoman, lectured me on the sha oiiiess of 
 the one I wore during a previous visit to her 
 hospitable and pleasant home. 
 
 "While occupied in choosing said bonnet by the 
 aid of a mirror, I was startled by seeing in the glass 
 before me, the face of Captain Percy, and the young- 
 woman I had seen with him first in Kay's Hotel, 
 afterwards in the railway cars, the former examining 
 my face with the same sinister look his own wore in. 
 passing me by the previous evening. 
 
 Completing my purchase as quickly as possible, 
 and wrapping my old hat in a piece of paper, I left 
 the shop, closely followed by Captain Percy, who on 
 my turning into another street dogged my footsteps, 
 and was evidently intent on tracing me to my 
 boarding house ; my heart beat hard with terror as 
 I felt myself followed closely by this vindictive man, 
 who from the fact of his doing so, I felt convinced, 
 must have in some way become acquainted with the 
 motive I had lor residing in Montreal, and I had no 
 
THE GRAND GOEDONS. 
 
 823 
 
 donbt, would by every means in his power, lawful 
 or otherwise, frustrate my purpose ; I do not know 
 that I ever heard Lady Grordon talk of him as Captain 
 Percy, her deagnation of him being invariably " that 
 unscrupulous, bad man," and these words of her's 
 seemed to come, warning me to avoid him by every 
 means in my power, and at the same time, I felt a 
 strong conviction that there must be something of 
 importance to be concealed in his conduct to his 
 dead wife, which prompted him to the course of 
 action he was now pursuing. 
 
 I was close to the chemist's shop in Bleury street, 
 where our tall boarder was employed, and entering, 
 I told him I wanted to wait there until the cars 
 passed, so that I might ride a part of my way to 
 Doctor Balfour's. 
 
 He at once desired another of the young men to 
 stop the cars as they passed, and in a few minutes, I 
 was handed in, when to my dismay, I saw Captain 
 Percy deliberately walk in after me, and seat him- 
 self on the same side, near the door ; at the entrance 
 to the street leading to the one where Doctor Balfour 
 lived, I left the cars, again closely followed by my tor- 
 mentor, who kept me in sight until I entered the 
 house ; fortunately, at a little distance from my destina- 
 tion, I met Mr. Denham, who promised to come and 
 take me home. 
 
 During the course of the evening, I took an 
 opportunity of mentioning to Doctor Balfour, having 
 seen Captain Percy, and repeated to him the way in 
 
 ill 
 
 m 
 
 
824: 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 which I had bee» followed, and the dread I had of 
 him, a stranger and unprotected as I was. 
 
 Doctor Balfour laughed at my fears, saying, " You 
 forget that here you are as safe as if you were in 
 Scotland; you are under the protection of the law 
 here as well as there ; he dare not lift a finger against 
 you ; it would be as much as his liberty is worth, 
 why then dread him ? This is simply a weak, nerv- 
 ous feeling which seems unnatural to, and is certainly 
 unworthy of you ; but his appearance in Montreal, 
 and his evident anxiv^ty to know where you live, and 
 of course find out what you are doing, convinces me 
 more positively than before that Mrs. Percy is yet 
 alive ; we must set both our brains to work to ascer- 
 tain, if possible, some other way than those already 
 tried, by which we may light upon her whereabouts. 
 I wish Mr. Morton were here, or that he would allow 
 you to consult some other lawyer on the subject; * 
 this seems to me the most feasible way of solving the 
 mystery of a woman having died in Montreal, not 
 two yerrs ago, of whom no trace can now be found ; 
 these men are bred up to the very work in which 
 you and I have failed, simi>ly, I believe, from our not 
 knowing how to go about it." 
 
 Although I did not say so, I held a different opinion 
 from Doctor Balfour; I believedfirmly that Mrs. Percy 
 was a tenant of the grave, and I believed also it would 
 be difficult, if not impossible, to find out where that 
 hidden unmarked grave lay ; her husband's conduct 
 impressing me strongly with the conviction that she 
 was the victim of foul play. 
 
'i l! 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 825 
 
 not 
 
 iiid ; 
 
 rhich 
 
 ir not 
 
 After breakfast on the following morning, Mr. 
 Denham offered to drive me to the Sault R6 collet 
 and St. Martin's, to both of which places he was 
 going to make arrangements for preaching on the 
 two next Sundays. I gladly accepted his offer; I 
 had nothing to occupy me in town, and althoiigh I 
 had now been several months in Montreal, I had 
 never been further from it than to the kitchen garden 
 farm of Mrs. Campbell's son-in-law, about two miles 
 from the town. I went there several times to see 
 Sandy Mitchell, who had become a very rock in 
 steadiness since taking up his abode in Canada ; he 
 was now earning a dollar and a half a day, boarding 
 in Mrs. Campbell's cottage, where he read the Bible 
 his mother gave Jiim at parting, to her and her adopted 
 children, every night and morn. He had already 
 repaid the money his father gave him, and vras now 
 saving a sum to send home as a present to his mother ; 
 the last time I was there he asked me if I would 
 bring it with me when I w^ent home. " Alas ! and 
 w^oe is me," I mentally exclaimed, "if I faithfully 
 fulfil the spirit and letter of my fatal vow, when 
 shall I go home ? Sandy, with his grandson in his 
 hand, will go back to Scotland ere I go." 
 
 We had a delightful ride out by the beautiful 
 Sault and its mimic rapids, the very air musical with 
 the many bright plumaged birds which inhabited 
 the richly wooded district we were passing through, 
 the wild canary, so tame that it would sit and sing 
 on the outspreading branches as we passed under- 
 neath, the squirrels here seemed to have forgotten 
 
826 
 
 THE GEAND GORDONS. 
 
 tlieir fear of man, one little fellow sitting on a tree 
 close by the road, tke trunk of which we had seen 
 him run up a second or two previous, turned round 
 to look at the strangers as we rode along, his red tail 
 turned up over his back, while in his hand-like paws he 
 held some bonne bouche with which he gratified his 
 appetite, while satisfyinghis curiosity by inspecting us. 
 
 Mr Denham concluded his business at the Sault, 
 while 1 waited patiently in front of the pleasant 
 little hostlery, kept by French people, whose man- 
 ners, looks and language, would, with a very little 
 aid from the imagination, bring one who had ever 
 been there, back to Brittany, where their fore fathers 
 came from so many long years ago ; on entering 
 their houses you see the same perfect cleanliness, 
 the same love of order and decoration, as characterize 
 their brethren across the sea ; the same gay looking 
 French prints of St. Joseph, the Blessed Virgin, and 
 St. Francois Xavier, as I had looked on a hundred 
 times on the old cottage walls of Brittany, are here 
 repeated in the Canadian home, where amid its 
 native snows the Frenchman warms himself by the 
 same box-sto\re as his fore fathers warmed themselves 
 by, sings the same songs, dances the same dance, 
 and discouraged not by the arctic winter and short 
 summer, cultivates the sweet Fameuse, with its 
 crimson cheel: and snowy flesh, and the purple and 
 white grape of fair France, three thousand miles 
 from their own land, surrounded by an alien people, 
 under a foreign rule, speaking their own language, 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 827 
 
 ang 
 
 Iteeping their own religion, their own customs and 
 manners, living in the very atmosphere of France ! 
 
 The Sault Recollet passed, we now pressed on to 
 St. Martin's, but ere we reached the village, while 
 just on its outskirts, our horse took fright at the noise 
 of a horn, together with an outre looking figure 
 placed on a poll, which some French children had 
 made for their amusement, and rushed on with high 
 leaps, which threatened every moment to break the 
 carriage in pieces, in one of which I was thrown out 
 upon a heap of stones collected on the way-side for 
 mending the road ; having thus lightened himself of 
 a part of his load, he sprang off with renewed vigor 
 towards the village, where he was at last caught and 
 quieted down, although not before he had half 
 ruined the carriage. 
 
 I think I must have been stunned by the fall, as I 
 have no recollection of anything after being thrown 
 ■on the heap of stones, until I opened my eyes, feeling 
 my head and neck drenched with water, and seeing 
 a crowd of French children of both sexes surround- 
 ing me. I endeavored to raise myself, but the attempt 
 gave me such exquisite pain, that I was fain to resume 
 my recumbent position ; a large Frenchwoman, who 
 I saw by the bowl of water in her hand, was the one 
 I was indebted to for my wetting, asked, making an 
 effort to speak English, if I was much hurt ? 
 
 I replied in French that I did not think so, but 
 that I fancied something about my arm oi shoulder 
 w^as injured, and if there was a doctor near, I should 
 wish him to be sent for. 
 
 !i 
 
 1 
 
1 
 
 328 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 " 1 have already sent for a doctor," replied the 
 young woman. " My husband went to bring him 
 here, immediately after carrying you in. I am glad, 
 you can speak French, continued she, *' as my hus- 
 band and I only speak a few words of English, and 
 I fear the doctor neither speaks nor understands a. 
 word." 
 
 On looking around, 1 found that I was lying on a 
 wooden settle in a large roonv, the furniture of which 
 consisted besides of only a table, cupboard, and a 
 dozen of chairs, and judging from the number of 
 children around me, the chairs would all be required ; 
 there must have been at least ten, between the ages 
 of sixteen and one year, an old grandmother too. 
 whom I afterwards learned was nearly one hundred 
 years old, wandered out and in between the room- 
 where I was lying and the kitchen, into which I 
 could look from the settle where I lay. 
 
 Although I experienced a considerable deal of 
 pain, yet surrounded as I was by so many objects to 
 attract my attention from myself, the time did not 
 seem long until the doctor came, notwithstanding 
 that Monsieur Joinnette the farmer, in whose house- 
 I was, had after going to the village, been obliged to 
 drive two miles further off in search of him. 
 
 The doctor was accompanied by Mr. Denham, whom 
 I was thankful to see uninjured in head or limb^ 
 although he must have sustained some severe bruises. 
 On examination, my arm, which was the part causing 
 me most pain, was found to be slightly sprained near 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 B29 
 
 the shoulder, the doctor sayinjr that I must remain 
 where I was for a few days, and then I could return 
 to Montreal, without fear ; I was quite willing to do 
 this ; I had no business to require my presence in 
 Montreal, and I felt very sure that I would give less- 
 trouble to Madame Joinnette, with her number of 
 little girls, four of whom were able to help their 
 mother, than I should do in Mrs. Dunbar's house^ 
 with her one servant and many boarders. 
 
 Madame, aided by her two eldest girls, soon ar- 
 ranged a hard mattress for me in the adjoining room, 
 where my arm being set, I was enjoined to keep 
 quiet for at least two days ; this would, under ordi- 
 nary circumstances, have been hard work, as all 
 available books in the house consisted of school- 
 books, and a few prizes received by one of the girls at 
 a nun's school, but Madame Joinnette was a host in 
 herself, a true Frenchwoman, making the most of 
 every little incident, telling amusing anecdotes of 
 their own family and neighbors, the sayingg and 
 doings of even the little children forming something^ 
 worth listening to, delivered in her piquant way. 
 
 Mr. Denham concerned himself more than was at. 
 all necessary about the accident which I had met. 
 with, and although he did not say so, I could easily 
 see he blamed himself and his bad driving for what 
 might have happened in the hands of the most 
 skilful Jehu ; he did not leave Monsieur Joinnette's 
 house until late in the evening, a circumstance I 
 regretted, on account of the price which I knew ha 
 
 • : 
 
 Hi 
 
 
 ■m 
 
S30 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 Vi 
 
 -would have to pay for the horse and carriage, know- 
 ing* as I did, that his means were limited ; and what 
 grieved me still more was, that during the first three 
 days of my residence, he drove out every evening to 
 see me. 
 
 The farm Joinnette owned, was bought in the first 
 place partly with money he had earned by his work 
 previous to his marriage, and afterwards he had con- 
 trived to pay off every year a portion of the debt due 
 upon it, notwithstanding the large fomily he had to 
 bring up, and various losses he had sustained by the 
 death of horses and cattle. 
 
 The orchards, of which there were three, all filled 
 with fine young thriving trees, had been planted by 
 his own hand ; one of them indeed, the nearest to 
 the house, was as far as possible of his own creation, 
 the trees having been reared from seeds sown by 
 himself; poor man, he never tired speaking of his 
 orchards, he had an anecdote for almost each separate 
 tree. A few^ days before our accident, a runaway 
 horse jumped over the fence of one of his orchards, 
 breaking one or two branches of a plum tree which 
 was in bearing for the first time. Alas ! what a 
 number of sighs and laments the loss of those pre- 
 cious branches caused. 
 
 Another source of pride to Monsieur was his 
 young colts, two of which were really beautiful 
 young creatures ; he expected to realize large sums 
 by the sale of these when they were broke, and his 
 castle-building in the air on their account was a 
 favorite evening recreation. 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 831 
 
 This simple habitant was one ^^f the best of 
 husbands and fathers, and although a pooi- man, 
 hospitable to a fault, if an excess of such a virtue can 
 be called a fault. 
 
 Madame, who was ten years younger than her 
 husband, was a beautiful woman, being large and 
 fat it is true, but among the French habitants no 
 woman who is not so, can have any claims to beauty, 
 and apart from her title to be called beautiful on 
 that score, Madame's finely cut features, clear brown 
 skin, bright color, and soft brown eyes, would have 
 warranted her a beauty in more fastidious circles 
 than amid those she moved ; she, as I found most of 
 the French Canadian women do, ruled all in the 
 house, and nearly all about the farm ; nothing was 
 done, from the most trivial to the most important 
 thing, without consulting Madame ; when a horse 
 was wanted by a neighbor either in loan or lo hire, 
 Joinnette would generally reply, " I dont know, 
 what do you say. Rose ? Monsieur Faucher wants to 
 hire " or, as the case might be " to get the loan of 
 the horse, do you think we can give it to him ?" 
 
 The reply was generally in the affirmative ; these 
 good simple people living very much on the principle 
 of doing unto others as they would be done by. 
 
 Instead of a few days, as the doctor supi^osed I 
 would be obliged to remain with the Joinnettes, it 
 was several weeks ere I could again bear the fatigue 
 of going to Montreal ; inflammation set in around 
 the injured part of my shoulder, and poor Madame 
 
 ii 
 
 M 
 
5 
 
 M' 
 
 ( 
 
 , 
 
 832 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 Joinnctte had a weary time bathing it with warm 
 fomentations. I shall ever remember the kind patience 
 with which I was attended to in their happy humble 
 home, and the interest evinced by all, children, 
 father, grandmother, in my recovery, and that I 
 should be carefully tended, and every want if possible 
 supplied. One little girl they had christened Victoria, 
 for our English Queen, although they, nor indeed 
 any of the French habitants I met with, did not 
 consider themselves subjects of the Queen ; when I 
 ventured to say that all in Canada were subjects of 
 the Queen of England, I was listened to with a quiet 
 smile, and the reply given was generally " Yes, the 
 Queen is certainly Queen of Canada and of the 
 English people here, but we are not subjects of the 
 Queen of England, — the Emperor is our King." No 
 explanation which could be given, would have the 
 slightest effect ; they would agree with you in all you 
 said, and after you had exhausted all your rhetoric, 
 and come to the conclusion that by the knowledge 
 you had imparted to them of mere facts, they must 
 be Convinced, they would meet you with the old 
 story — " Oh ! yes, the Emperor must always be king 
 of the French, wherever they are ; in France or here, 
 it is all the same." 
 
 In telling of the respect felt by the habitants for 
 rEmpereur, I had almost forgotten my anecdote of our 
 Queen's little name-child Victoria ; she would come 
 many times every day with a fresh glass of wa vir, 
 saying in her childish way, " Would Ma'^^' ^ 'telle 
 like a nice drink of water ? " 
 
THE GRAND GOIiDON.S. 
 
 833 
 
 III like manner, one of the boys, fair-haired and 
 blue eyed, as unlike a French boy in exterior as 
 possible, but fortunately for himself the very count(»r- 
 part of his p^ood father in all the qualities of the 
 mind and hnurt, Alexander Noel, would set olf in 
 the early morninj^, and return Ions? before breakfast 
 with such wild fruit, raspberries or blackberries, as 
 he could find in the bush, and presentinc: them to 
 me, would say with a naive politeness so natural to a 
 French boy, " they are fresh and cool, Mademoiselle, 
 picked while the dew was yet uj^on them." Such 
 were the delicate attentions I was constantly receiv- 
 ing from those polite peasant children, prompted 
 by the same kindly feeling which induced their father 
 and mother to provide for my wants, and tend me 
 with the most sedulous care. 
 
 I was getting much better ; the inflammation was 
 quite gone from my arm, and I could move it a little, 
 but I was becoming anxious to return to Montreal* 
 where I hoped to receive by the first British mail, a 
 letter from Mr. Morton, telling me what I was next 
 to do, and I felt sick at heart, as I thought this letter 
 might give me instructions to go to Quebec or some 
 other Canadian city, and there repeat the round of 
 useless inquiries and weary walks I had already 
 gone through in Montreal. 
 
 I concurred heartily in the wish expressed by 
 Doctor Balfour, that Mr. Morton w^ould either come 
 out himself or allow me to employ some clever 
 lawyer here, whose acute brain w^ould probably a. 
 
334 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 ^<jf 
 
 m 
 
 r 
 
 once hit upon some plan for the discovery of Mrs. 
 Percy's grave, which would never occur to such an 
 untutored mind as mine, or for that matter, Doctor 
 Balfour's either. 
 
 The doctor called to see my arm ; he had not been 
 to the farm for some days, and was now so pleased 
 ■«''.ch the amendment in its appearance and feeling, 
 that he gave me leave to return to Montreal, should 
 the symptoms continue as they were. 
 
 That evening, Madame J oinnette sat up for several 
 hours after the children wont to bed, in order to 
 await the return of her husband, who had gone into- 
 Montreal late in the afternoon, and consequently 
 would not return until midnight ; knowing this I 
 begged of her to bring her work into the room I oc- 
 cupied, and sit by me ; in the lazy lying-about life I 
 was leading, sleep seemed to lly my pillow, and 
 Madame, with her fund of village anecdotes, would 
 help me to pass the sleepless hours pleasantl5^ 
 
 Almost immediately as she sat down, with her con- 
 stant accompaniment of an old garment to mend in 
 her hands, she said — 
 
 " I have something to tell you about a very wicked 
 countryman of yours, which I do not like to speak 
 of before the children, although they know it very 
 well, but such things do not put good thoughts in 
 children's heads ; it was not easy to tell it to you 
 when Joinnette was at home, as he debarred m» 
 from doing so, he said it would only grieve you, and 
 perhaps atiront you also, to hear of this wicked 
 

 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 83^ 
 
 Englishman ; but all day a feeling in my heart ha» 
 been almost speaking to me to tell you ; perhaps the 
 blessed Virgin has put it in my heart, so that you 
 may help this poor lady out of the hands of her 
 wicked brother." 
 
 My curiosity was ai'oused, and I begged of her ta 
 tell me, saying that if it were in my power to help 
 the lady she spoke of, I would certainly consider it 
 my duty to do so. 
 
 " Do you know a gentleman of the name of Smith 
 in Montreal ? " she began. 
 
 I replied in the negative, telling her that Smith 
 was a name equally common among the English as 
 Benoit or Labelle among the French, and although 
 1 did not know them, there were probably hundreds 
 of the name among the English in Montreal. 
 
 " Well," said she, " long ago, more than a year and 
 a half, perhaps two years since, a gentleman of the 
 name of Smith, came out to an Indian and his squaw 
 who live away down in the bush far from every 
 other hoVise ; we are the nearest ntMghbors, and I am 
 sure it h six or seven miles from this, and the bush 
 is so thick that we could not take a horse, so we 
 never went there until about six months ago, but I 
 will tell you about that again. The Indian had 
 known the man Smith ten years ago, when he came 
 with two other Englishmen out to a camp of Indians, 
 who were hunting near the Rocky Mountains, and 
 when he saw the gentleman on the streets of Mon- 
 treal he knew him again, because the Indians never 
 
 :l 
 
 / 1 
 
836 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 forget a face they have once seen* The man Smith 
 speaks good French, and the Indian went up to him 
 and asked if he knew him ? The man did not at first 
 remember, but when the Indian put him in mind of 
 the camp at the Rocky Mountains, he was very glad 
 to see him, and took him into an auberge and gave 
 him his dinner; when the Indian was eating his 
 dinner, Smith told him he had a sick sister, who he 
 was very anxious to get some one in the country to 
 take care of, and asked him if his squaw would not 
 do this, offering to give good pay. The Indian told 
 him that his place was only a poor one, but if the 
 gentleman thought it good enough, he would take 
 care of his sister until he came back from Europe. 
 The man Smith bade him finish his dinner and wait 
 for him, and before the Indian had finished his 
 dinner, (you know the Indians eat seldom, but they 
 eat an awful quantity at once), and before he had 
 done eating, the man Smith came back with a car- 
 riage, and they drove out to the Indian's place to 
 see it, as the man said, but I'm sure it was only that 
 he might know the way ; he did not stop to go in, 
 but just turned round the horse and drove back to 
 Montreal, telling the Indian he would bring his 
 sister that night; and so he did; the old Indian 
 came up here lor fresh straw to fill a bed and the 
 lend of a quilt, but I'm sure it was a poor bed they 
 made for a lady like her ; when she came they found 
 that one of her sides was i)aralyzed, and she could 
 only use one leg and one arm ; Smith did not tell 
 them this for fear they would not take her, and we 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 337 
 
 3ire sure he brou2rht her to them to have her out of 
 the way, that the other EngUsh people might not 
 know any thing about her. 
 
 She had a little child about six months old when 
 she came to the Indian's house, but it died, and it 
 was when it died that I saw her. The old squaw 
 sent her husband up for me that night ; she thought 
 I could speak English enough to comfort the mother, 
 but you know my English is good for very little." 
 
 " But," asked I, " how could they bring her into 
 such a close bush as that if she is paralyzed ?" 
 
 " There is an entrance into the bush on the other 
 side, through which the Indian takes his cart ; they 
 make baskets and sell them for a liviHg; th:;y are 
 both very old ; grandmother says she thinks the old 
 man is nearly as old as she is !" 
 
 " Well," said I, *' do tell me about the young 
 English woman, iis she still living with the Indians?" 
 
 " No," replied Madame, " she was taken into Mon- 
 treal the very day before you came ; but before I tell 
 you about that, I must tell you something about 
 Smith, her wicked brother ; he came here over a 
 year since, and w^ished us to take her to boai»d ; we 
 had just lost our horse, and .Toinnette, who is good- 
 natured and ready to trust every one, thinking all 
 others as good as himself, told Smith that we had 
 lost our horse, and we had a payment of one hundred 
 dollars to make on our farm within ten days; we 
 did not know what to do, we thought surely we 
 
 must lose the farm, when Smith came and offered ua 
 
 W 
 
 if; 
 
838 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 to send his sister to board here, telling ns that sh& 
 was so ill she could only live a few weeks at most, 
 and when she died we would have one hundred 
 dollars to pay for our trouble in attending her, and 
 if she w^as dead and buried i;i seven days, which she 
 would be if w^e neglected her, he would make the- 
 money one himdred and fifty dollars, and he would 
 give us ten dollars in hand for her first month's 
 board, which would be ours if she only lived twa 
 days after she came." 
 
 " Why," exclaimed I, horror struck, " He wanted 
 you to kill her." 
 
 " Aye," replied the Frenchw^oman. " That was 
 just what he did want, but thanks be to the blessed 
 Virgin, he came io the wrong people, if he could 
 have given us all France instead of a hundred and 
 fifty dollars, we would not have been his sister's 
 murderers." " 
 
 " Where do you say she is now ?" inquired I, 
 feeling an intense interest in the poor young woman. 
 
 " I do not know%" replied Madame Joinnette. " All 
 we know is that the Indians took her into Montreal 
 at her own request some weeks since, just the very 
 day before you came here." 
 
 I thought of the Indian driving the white woman 
 I had seen on the morning of the day i^revious to 
 my coming to St. Martin's, and the likeness the 
 woman's face bore to Mrs. Percy's picture, and I 
 asked with a quickened beating of the heart. 
 
)man 
 Ills to 
 the 
 liid I 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 839 
 
 " How did the Indian take her to Montreal, and at 
 what hour in the day do you think they went ?" 
 
 " They took her in in Joinnette's waggon, and they 
 had his horse also ; their own horse was too tired ; 
 they had been drawing their winter wood the day 
 before, ond when the Indian told for what he wanted 
 the horse, JMnnette gave him our waggon and 
 buffaloes, a& she would ride easier in it than in 
 the Indian's cart ; she must hare been in Montreal 
 in good time, because they brought back our horse 
 and waggon before ten o'clock in the forenoon." 
 
 " Do you know what kind of bonnet the lady 
 wore?" I askjd. 
 
 " No, I never saw her but once, the night her 
 baby died, but I am sure she had not much of 
 anything to wear ; all the clothes she had were in a 
 little leather valise Smith brought when he brought 
 herself, and she never had anything new all the 
 time; she was with the Indians, and it is, I am sure, 
 two years since she came to them lirst. 
 
 *' I suppose," said I, " tiie Indian could toll us 
 what became of the lady ; I hope he did not bring 
 her to her brother." 
 
 " No, I am sure he did not do that," replied 
 Madame, " because he told us that a young grand- 
 daughter of theirs who lived with the English a 
 long time, and speaks English as Avell as you do, 
 came home with th«^m the night he came for the 
 waggon, and the lady made her ask him to take her 
 into Montreal ; I think she wanted to go to an 
 
 I 
 
 
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 w 
 
 ■w- 
 
 1 
 
 i il 
 
M;> 
 
 340 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 hospital, but if you wish to know we will send Noel 
 to ask Monsieur le Cure to-morrow. I am sure he 
 knows where she is ; she would not be taken into 
 an hospital without a letter from Monsieur Le Cure." 
 
 •' If she is in an hospital," said I, " she will be 
 most likely in the English hospital." 
 
 *' I do not know," replied Madame, folding up her 
 work, as she heard the noise made by the waggon 
 bringing Joinnette home, as it passed the window, 
 " but Noel will go to-morrow to Monsieur le Cure ; 
 we wiH hear all about it then." 
 
 Madame Joinnette's narrative had given me food 
 for thought ; during several hours I lay thinking 
 over what I had heard, and in connection with this, 
 the likeness of the white woman I had seen in 
 the Indian's waggon to Mrs. Percy, the fact of 
 Captain Percy being still in Montreal, and his evident 
 desire to know what I was about there. I tried to 
 sleep but it was impossible ; the idea that at last I 
 had a clue — not to Mrs. Percy's grave, but to the 
 living, breathing, if frail ?ind sickly woman, banished 
 sleep so entirely, that when the day-light at last 
 came peeping in through the green blinds of the 
 room, I rose as refreshed as if I had i)assed the night 
 in undisturbed repose, 
 
 I surprised the farmer by going to him as soon as 
 I heard his footsteps in the kitchen ere the clock had 
 warned five, asking him other particulars of the story 
 I had heard the previous evening, and in getting 
 
r i 
 
 Noel 
 LTe ho 
 a into 
 Dure. 
 
 'ill bo. 
 
 Lip her 
 
 raggon 
 
 iudow, 
 
 Cur6 ; 
 
 le food 
 linking 
 th this, 
 eon ill 
 fact of 
 vident 
 tried to 
 t last I 
 to the 
 Lxnished 
 at last 
 of the 
 le night 
 
 soon as 
 lock had 
 Ihe story 
 
 getting 
 
 THE GRAND OORDONS. 
 
 841 
 
 him to give me what I had forgotten to ask his wife» 
 a minute description of Smith. 
 
 He at once complied, giving me an exact picture 
 of Captain Percy, drawn with all the graphic powers 
 of a Frenchman ; in so doing, bringing to my recol- 
 lection a peculiarly large and showy ring which that 
 delectable gentleman wore upon his little linger, the 
 habit he had of enclosing his lower lip with his teeth, 
 not escaping Joinnette's observation. 
 
 I expressed a great desire to see the Indian, saying, 
 " I am going back to Montreal to-day, I wish I could 
 see the Indian before I leave this." 
 
 " The Indian and his wife have both gone to tho 
 chase, and will not return here before the end of next 
 winter, perhaps not until spring ; he left all his 
 furniture stored in my sister's barn." 
 
 " Then could I learn from the priest where to find 
 the English lady V" I inquired. " Madame told mo 
 the Cure had given a letter to have her admitted into 
 an hospital in Montreal." 
 
 " I am sure the priest will tell us," replied the 
 farmer, " but are you really going to leave us to-day? 
 we have grown so accustomed to have you in the 
 house, we will miss you all the time; I hope you 
 will come and see us before you go back to England." 
 
 This I readily promised, urging him to send at 
 once to the priest for the information I desired, 
 as I wanted to leave for my journey as soon as 
 possible. 
 
 " If that is the case," said the farmer, " You shall 
 
 
 I: 
 
 1 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 iS 
 
 ■ft 
 
 ..^li-i, 
 
 [% 
 
 i ft* 
 
11 
 
 i!iii 
 
 !l 
 
 II 
 
 
 312 
 
 THE GRAND QORDONS. 
 
 have breakfast at once ; I will drive you into Mon- 
 treal myself, and wo will call at the priest's house, 
 and you can see him yourself in passing." 
 
 The arrangements were soon made ; my adieux 
 said to these kind people, and with many promises 
 to return soon and see them again, I got into the 
 waggon which was to convey me to Montreal, full 
 of hope that my mission to Canada was to be brought 
 to a speedy and happy end. 
 
 When I was seated in the waggon, I at once 
 recognized the grey horse before me, as the one I 
 had seen the Indian driving a few woeks previous ; 
 would that I had heeded better the warning voice 
 that called me to awake on the morning I first saw it ! 
 
 Arrived at the priest's house, .Toiiinette went in 
 and explained my reason for troubling him ; he at 
 once came out and with great politeness offered not 
 only to give me the name of the hospital to which 
 he had sent Miss Smith, (as he called her), but also 
 a letter to the kSuperior, requesting her to allow me 
 visit the invalid wliom ho had three weeks before 
 recommended to the mercy of the sisters of The Holy 
 Cross. 
 
 This letter I accepted with many thanks for the 
 kind thoughtful noss of the Reverend gentleman in 
 giving it ; until it was ottered it never occured to 
 me what was most likely to take place, viz. — that I 
 could not obtain admittance to the hospital of a 
 cloistered convent. 
 
 In possession of this x)i'ecious missive, we left Isle 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 843 
 
 Jesus ere the lazier inhabitants of Montreal were at 
 breakfast, arriving at my boarding-house by eleven 
 •o'clock, where a hearty welcome awaited me from- 
 Mrs. Dunbar and her daughters. 
 
 On going to my room, I there found the bed tossed, 
 the wash bowl full of water, everything bearing 
 traces of the room having been used the previous 
 night ; Mrs. Dunbar was close on my heels, and 
 before I could turn to her for an explanation, 
 •exclaimed in an apolegetic manner — 
 
 " Mr. Denham gave mo your message about your 
 paying for your room while you were absent, but I 
 just took the liberty of putting a gentleman into it 
 last night ; he has engaged to occupy a room in the 
 house at least once a week through the whole year, 
 sometimes requiring it four days in the week, and is 
 to pay me hotol prices, two dollars and a half a day ; 
 I was afraid to lose such a chance, so I put him into 
 your room for one night; I will furnifsh one of the 
 iittics, so that when he comes again he may have my 
 •own room, and the girls and I will go up stairs for 
 the time he remains ; he says he often brings his wife 
 with him, and then he pays double, and fancy, he is 
 never to dine here, always at a restaurant in town." 
 
 I assured her that there was no harm done pro- 
 vided I could now have my room without intrusion 
 irom a stranger, adding, " that I hope the gentleman 
 did not expect to sleep in it to-night." 
 
 " Oh ! no, he only wanted it for one night this 
 week ; next week he will bo here four days. Just 
 
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 844 
 
 THE GRAND OORDONS. 
 
 fancy," said she, her face very plainly expressin;? the 
 satisfaction she felt, '* ten dollars for only sleeping m 
 the house four nights you may say ; he engaged the- 
 room last night a])out tea time, but did not come 
 until about nine o'clock ; I ollered him a cup of tea 
 when he came in, but he said he had had tea at the 
 Mayor's house ; he geiujrally took tea with one of his- 
 friends, so that he might spend a social evening, and 
 this morning he was off before eight to be in time 
 for the train going West, and only took a cup of 
 coffee and about an inch of dry toast, paying down 
 his two dollars and a half, and shaking hands with 
 myself and my daughters as if he had been an old 
 friend before he went away ; ho says he slept so 
 sound, our house is so quiet, which you know it is,, 
 and he has been in the habit of going to the St. 
 Lawrence since his business brought him to Mon- 
 treal, and he says one can never sleep half the night 
 there, with opening and shutting of doors, and it 
 stands to reason it would be so in such a i)lace as 
 that, full of casual boarders ; it was himself who- 
 made the terms ; I would never think of asking so- 
 much, but he said that was wliat he always paid in 
 the hotels where he was half the time kept awake^ 
 it was only lair he should pay the same price where 
 he had a large room and sound sleep.'* 
 
 Mrs. Dunbar was in high glee with the prospect 
 of making so much money so easily, and I felt pleased 
 that the use of my room had been instrumental iit 
 helping to procure it ; she was now in a fair way of 
 
THE GRAND GOltDONS. 
 
 84^ 
 
 makinfi; what she called the two ends of the year 
 meet, a consummation which, with all her hard 
 work, she had been unable hitherto to attain. 
 
 I waited rather impatiently for twelve o'clock, the 
 hour which the Cure told me visitors were admitted 
 into the hospital of " The Holy Cross." At the 
 appointed hour I ^vas there in waiting. On ringing 
 at the lattice, I was answered by its being opened 
 and the head of a lay nun appearing within, who 
 asked in French, what I wanted. 
 
 I at once showed the Cure's letter, saying that T 
 wanted to see a patient, and had been furnished 
 with this letter by the priest at Isle Jesus, as aii 
 introduction to the Lady [Superior. 
 
 This was evidently an "open sesame," as at onco 
 another larger wicket w^as unlocked, through which 
 I was admitted into the court yard, in the centre of 
 which the convent stood. A wondrous place it seemed 
 to me, accustomed as I was in my enrly girlhood to 
 the convents of France, I had never seen anything 
 like the one now before me, the immense size of 
 the place, the great height of the ponderous walls 
 made of unhewn stone, in which from their thickness 
 the small windows seemed to be sunk, the solemn 
 stillness ot the place, not a soul to be seen except the 
 quiet nun and myself, gave me a feeling of awe and 
 wonder which I had never experienced before. 
 
 I was admitted to the convent by a postern door, 
 where the nun who preceded me dipped her fingers 
 in a stone vessel containing Holy water, reverently 
 
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 TUE GUAND GORDONS. 
 
 ■crossinjjf hiirsclt" }H»ri)vo (Milorinn* tho loii)^ narrow 
 ptiBHuiro that 1(hI into an ontraiico room, tho windows 
 of which, phicetl hi«»h up in the wall, wore of a palo 
 colored ^ias8 ; shininj:^ throni»h them tho noonday 
 hun came with a sotloned liiiht on tho beaiitit'nlly 
 clean lloor and benches, ^ivinp^ a ])eauty not their 
 own to tho colored prints illustrative of Scripture and 
 other religious subjects, which hung on tho wall. 
 
 I observed that here as well as at tho door I 
 entered )>y, the vessel containing tho Holy water 
 was of beautifully cut and polished stone, tho out- 
 side made to resemble tho undulating waves of a 
 calm sea. 
 
 I sat some time waiting patiently for the appearance 
 of tho prioress, who tho nun had left mo to go in 
 search of; at last she came, looking at mo with a 
 scrutinizing glance, which seemed to take in myself 
 and all I had upon nie, down to tho very point of 
 my parasol. iShe said— 
 
 '* You have a letter for the Superior from Monsieur 
 Le Cure of St. Martins V" at same time holding out 
 her hand to receive it. 
 
 To my surprise she at once opened the letter, and 
 having perused it, she next examined my face, as if 
 >she would read down through my eyes to my soul, 
 and see what was i^assing therein ; after a second or 
 two she said — 
 
 " You wish to see one of the invalids." 
 
 I replied, " Yes, if possible, I wish to see her now.'* 
 
THE aUAND GORDONS. 
 
 847 
 
 II 
 
 '• I cannot tnll you if you can b<» admit tod to hoo 
 h«M- at all," wuN hor reply, Htill (M)iiUnuin^ the same 
 rigid Hcrutijuy aw bet'oru. " in mIic a relativooi' yourM V" 
 
 "No," replied I. '* Hhe ia )io relative, but I think 
 8he iH u countrywoman ol' mine, and I winh to help 
 her." 
 
 " How do you mean to do that ?" inquired the nun. 
 
 *' I do not know what help she needH until I see 
 her," was my answer. *' lUit in whatever way I can 
 help her, either by money or otherwise, I will bo 
 willing to do so." 
 
 " If she has friends who are able to help her, why 
 was she sent here as a pauper ?" 
 
 " I did not know she was hero until last nij^ht," 
 was my rejUy. " Neither do her friends know of it 
 yet." 
 
 " Aro you her brother Smith's wife ?" asked the 
 nun, shewing plainly by her countenance and the 
 tone of' voice she used in speaking, that in this 
 character I had made no very favorable imi^ression 
 on her mind. 
 
 " No, I am not married ; my name is Kuth St. 
 Clare," replied I. " And the man who calls himself 
 Smith is not her brother, nor is his name Smith." 
 
 •' What is his name ?" 
 
 " Captain Percy," replied I. The nun asserted an 
 authority in interrogating me, which I felt myself 
 as unable to dispute as I would have been twenty 
 
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348 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 years before to refuse answering questions put to 
 me by my mother. 
 
 " And what relation is Captain Percy to this young 
 woman ?" was her next question. 
 
 " He is her husband ; at least if she is the person I 
 think she is, he is her husband." 
 
 " Then what right have you to interfere between 
 a man and his wife ? she was placed here by the 
 Indian, who brought her to be taken care of until 
 Smith would claim her." 
 
 *• I do not wish to interfere between Captain and 
 Mrs. Percy, but Captain Percy is now married to 
 another woman, and nearly two years ago he wrote 
 an account to Lady Gordon of her daughter's (his first 
 wife's) death, since then she has been concealed in 
 the hut of the Indian in Isle Jesus, and was brought 
 here by her own wish ; if you speak English she will 
 tell you this herself." 
 
 " I do not speak English, but I can easily find one 
 who does ; are you aware that the young woman ' j 
 ill with nervous fever, and that it is not at all likely 
 she will live ?" said the iinn with a stern face. 
 
 " No, I did not know that ; I knew she was para- 
 lyzed, but not that she was ill of fever." 
 
 The nun had continued standing all this time as if 
 she wished to shew me I was an intruder, and that 
 she fain would be rid of my presence, and now said 
 sharply, 
 
 " You do not seem to know much about her ; yoii 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 »49 
 
 said a few minutes ago, ' if she is the person I think 
 she is ;' before we waste more time in speaking on the 
 subject, it would be well to ascertain if this young 
 woman is really the person you think she is ; if you 
 are shewn the invalid, you will of cours'3 know 
 whether she is the one you seek ?" 
 
 *' I do not know that I would," replied I. " I never 
 saw her ; I have only seen pictures which are said 
 to be life-like representations of her, but a simple 
 way of ascertaining if t/ie lady in your hospital is 
 the one I seek, "would be to ask her in English if she 
 is Lady Gordon of Rockgirtisle's daughter." 
 
 " "Well," replied the nun quickly, and with an air 
 of satisfaction, as if she now saw the way clearly by 
 which she could get rid of me at once, " she cannot 
 be spoken to now with any reasonable hope of find- 
 ing out who she is ; she is nearly all the time raving, 
 and thence couid give no reasonable answer to any 
 question whatever, but you can come every day to 
 ask how she is, and as soon as it is possible to put 
 the question you propose to her, it shall be done, and 
 her answer duly reported to you." 
 
 "With 'hese words she turned to leave me ; I was 
 iv' despair ; it was evident that I was to be turned 
 out of the convent without even seeing her whom I 
 had now thought, and talked myself into being sure, 
 was the one I had crossed the sea to find. And what 
 was worse, she was liable at ony moment to be found 
 out and removed by Captain Percy ; it was as if I 
 had the philosopher's stone in my grasp, and by my 
 
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350 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 inability to hold it fast, it was slipping in the depths 
 of the sea. I was at my wit's end, when all of a 
 sudden I thought of the money in my pocket, and 
 determined to try its potent power to move. I at 
 once produced my pocket-book and found there forty 
 dollars, the last of one hundred I had drawn just 
 previous to my accident, the rest having been con- 
 siuned in paying the doctor's bill and my double 
 board in Montreal and at Monsieur Joimiette's. The 
 money was in four ten dollar bills ; handing these to 
 the prioress, I said — 
 
 " There are forty dollars which I wish to be 
 applied in paying for the board of Mrs. Percy ; will 
 ten dollars a week be enough ? if not, do not hesita,te 
 to say so, any sum you please to charge will be 
 thankfully paid : if she lives, she can repay your 
 trouble and kindness with a thousand dollars if she 
 will, and if she dies, I will pay any sura you think 
 proper, if 1 am only allowed to stay by her, and to 
 minister to her comfort for the short time she may 
 have to live, and be put in possession of her body 
 when she dies." 
 
 The nun examined the notes, and holding thom 
 loosely in her hand for a second or two, subjected 
 my face to another scrutiny, if possible more searching 
 than the first ; however her interest was evidently 
 excited, and seating herself by me, she said with a 
 grave yet not an unkind air — 
 
 " I cannot understand you ; your story is altogeth^u* 
 a confused and most incredible one, and it is mixed 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 351 
 
 up with a young woman around whom there is 
 certainly some mystery ; you say you came here to 
 seek a person who is no relative of yours, whom you 
 have never seen, and yet you are willing to pay the 
 largo sum of ten dollars a week w^hile she lives, on 
 condition that you are allowed to attend to her sick 
 hed and obtain possession of her body at her death. 
 Now the mildest construction I can put on the 
 circumstances as they appear to me i^, that this 
 young woman is the possessor of property, which, if 
 she dies, you or perhaps your friends will irherit, on 
 producing her body as the evidence of her disso- 
 lution ; why did you not go to attend her in the 
 Indian's hut where her child died ? that was certainly 
 no proper place for a lady of the rank and fortune 
 you claim for her, to reside ; you w^ere very lax in 
 your attention to her for nearly two years, yet it is 
 evident by your face as well as your words and 
 actions, that you have some strong inotive for what 
 you do, when you are willing to risk forty dollars to 
 obtain an interview with one Avho you acknowledge 
 after all may not be the person you think she is ; if 
 your motive in seeking this woman is really a good 
 one, and that you wish to benefit her and not 
 yourself, you had better tell me the plain unvarnished 
 truth, but beware that you tell me the truth only ; it 
 will be severely tested, and it seems to me that 
 Smith, who says he is her brother, and whom you 
 say is her husband, has had more real care and 
 kindness for the poor woman than any one else ; he 
 is of course a man who iias lo earn his bread, few 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 independent European gentlemen ccme here, yet he 
 pays in her behalf for nearly two years, what is a 
 very good board to this Indian and his wife, and 
 moreover has placed one hundred dollars in the Cure 
 of St, Martin's hands to defray the expense of her 
 interment. 
 
 •' The Indian did not speak favorably as to the 
 man's kindness in manner to his sister, or wife, 
 whichever she is, but certainly judging from what 
 you have said, his care of her creature comforts, 
 poor as they may have been, would contrast favo- 
 rably with the neglect of her mothcv, whom you 
 represent as being a Grand British Seigneuress. 
 "Why did she suffer her child to i^ine in sickness for 
 two years in the hut of a savage, attended only by 
 his squaw ? and now, w'hen she is on her dying bed, 
 and comparatively speaking, is comfortably cared 
 for, her friends send to obtain possession of her, 
 living or dead, at almost any cost ; there is surely 
 some need of explanation here." 
 
 I had been strictly enjoined by Mr. Morton, and 
 also by old Mr. Seaton of Thurlow, to conceal care- 
 fully the object of my mission to Canada, but I had 
 been obliged already to divulge it in part to the 
 prioress, and I felt that if I was to obtain permission 
 to see Mrs. Percy, it cou,ld only be had by a free 
 statement of the whole facts of the case. 
 
 "While the nun w^as yet speaking, I had determined 
 on sending a cable telegram to Mr. Morton ; I had 
 even decided upon the words to )>e used, " I think 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 353 
 
 Mrs. Pbroy is found alive, come out quickly," a,ad 
 had mentally counted and shortened them, so that 
 while the telegram '>vas as terse as possible, my mean- 
 ing would be clearly understood, and I well knew, 
 from what I had been a witness to, when Captain 
 Percy threw down the harp in Lady Gordon's draw- 
 ing-room, that these words would bring Mr. Morton 
 out with all speed ; yet haste as he would, there 
 were three thousand miles of waves to be crossed, 
 with all the chances attending storm and tide, ere he 
 could be here to aid Margaret Gordon in what seemed 
 to be the crisis of her fate. "Were she again to fall 
 into Captain Percy's hands, he would take care she 
 should now be buried in some deeper fastness than 
 the last, while he himself would be gone also, or 
 under some assumed name, hidden in the midst of 
 civilization, as he had been from my ken in Montreal 
 for months back, until a mere chance revealed his 
 being there ; or perhaps (horrible thought) impelled 
 by fear of the fate which would be sure to overtake 
 him in the event of his crimes becoming known, he 
 would himself accomplish the purpose he had in vain 
 tried to bribe the Indian and Monsieur Joinnette to 
 <lo for him. 
 
 Another contingency, and one which from the 
 nun's account of Mrs. Percy's health, seemed to be 
 the one most likely to occur, was her death taking 
 place, while perhaps the reaction which hope v/ould 
 be sure to bring, were she aware that the strong 
 hand of the law would be speedily put in force to 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 prevent Captain Percy's havinc^ henceforth any power 
 over her, might now be the means of saving her. 
 
 These thoughts crowding one upon another on my 
 mind, I nnswcred the nun with as much composure 
 as I could force myself to assume. 
 
 " I will tell you all I know of Lady Gordon's 
 daughter, whom I believe to be now in your hospital,, 
 and also all I know of the man who calls himself 
 Smith, and may claim her as either his sister or wife,, 
 whichever name suits his purpose for the time ; I 
 will leave it to yourself to judge, as to what is right 
 and just to be done, and I will abide by what you 
 say for the present, as under the circumstances I 
 must do ; I cannot force conviction upon your mind : 
 it is hard for me to do so because your preconceived 
 ideas are against me, but w'aether my story is credited. 
 or not, I will send a crblegrara to Britain this, 
 afternoon, which will quickly stir the highest Law 
 authorities in Scotland, to aid the lady who now 
 fills a pauper's bed in your hospital." 
 
 As I spoke, the strength and presence of mind' 
 I so admired in Lady Gordon, and which she pos-^ 
 sessed in such an eminent degree, seemed infusing 
 itself into my own, and I looked in the face of the 
 nun with a determination of purpose and resolution,, 
 which half an hour previous I would have deemed 
 impossible, overawed as I then was by the strange- 
 ness of the scene around me, the air of sanctity which 
 seemed to pervade the whole place, and fill my sout 
 "with feelings of reverence never experienced before ; 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 From the moment I entered the crreat door with its 
 heavy iron l'asteniu<»;s, and look»v.l around on niclic 
 and wall, where statue and pieture alike were placed 
 to excite, and a dimmed I'uht. came streamin|f^ in 
 through windows stained with pictured images in 
 glowing" colors, to foster and keep alive such reve- 
 rential Irames oi" mind, until the prioress stood before 
 me, her linely cut features, grave face, her superiority 
 of manner, which seemed in her to be natural, not 
 assumed , all agreeing so well with the simple beauty 
 yet severity of the conventual costume, a holy calm 
 pervading the very air around her, her countenance 
 never for a moment changed its expression of quiet 
 repose ; I might as well have stood on the highway 
 and read the thoughts of the passers by in the imprint 
 left by their feet in the sand, as endeavor to read in 
 the still pale face of the nun, the impression my words 
 had made. 
 
 " Go on," said she ; " time passes, say what you 
 wish me to hear, and be as concise as possible." 
 
 I did so, and in as few words as I could use, to 
 make my narrative clearly understood, I detailed to 
 her as much of Mrs. Percy's history as seemed to me 
 necessary, not forgetting the exact description given 
 me by Joinnettc of Captain Percy, while he portrayed 
 the man calling himself Smith, as the latter endea- 
 vored to make the simple habitant in his need, the 
 instrument by which he was to rid himself of his 
 wife. 
 
 AVhile I spoke, the nun never for one moment re- 
 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 ]axed her gaze from off my face ; when I finished, 
 she sat for some minutes with her hand covering her 
 eyes, as if concentrating her ideas on w^hat she had 
 heen listening to, and thereby enabling herself to 
 come to a definite conclusion as to what was best to 
 be done ; at last she uncovered her eyes, and said, 
 speaking slowly, as if considering and weighing 
 every word she spoke — 
 
 " You have told me a thrilling narrative ; one dis- 
 crepancy among others occurs to me — thics one 
 greater than all the rest. — Why did Lady Gordon 
 send a stranger who had never seen her daughter, 
 on such an errand ? A woman of her influence must 
 have had many among her friends who would gladly 
 do her bidding, and who knew and could recognize 
 at a glance the face of her daughter ; how came it 
 about that one who had never seen her, one whom 
 she had never seen, was chosen for such an enter- 
 prise ? thus almost defeating the very purpose she 
 went to serve ; had vou known the face of this 
 unfortunate lady, you would have stopped the waggon 
 on its way here." 
 
 *' What you say is true, but this inability in me, 
 did not of course present itself to the mind of Lady 
 Gordon, nor do I believe she despaired of ultimately 
 going in search of her child herself until an hour 
 or two previous to her death ; the morning of the 
 day on which it occurred, she spoke with hope of 
 being able to go on the contemplated journey to the 
 East Indies herself ; I was the one she had from the 
 
le, 
 
 THE ORAND GORDONS. 
 
 357 
 
 first fixed on as her companion, had she gone ; I was 
 intimately acquainted with all her plans, and knew 
 exactly how each was to be carried out ; I have no 
 doubt, had the want you allude to been thought of 
 by her Ladyship, I would have still been chosen to 
 carry on the work, but doubtless another would 
 have accompanied me, whose knowledge of Mrs, 
 Percy's face would have supplied my lack ; as it 
 was, this want in myself did not occur to me, until 
 I knew that 1 had looked at without recognizing her." 
 
 " Do you think you could, by merely seeing her," 
 replied the nun, " be able to decide if this i^erson 
 in the hospital is really the one you seek ? as far as 
 the evidence goes you have no proof positive of her 
 being so ; it is true the evidence is in favor of it, but 
 one word from the woman herself might ignore all 
 this, and unless we are convinced that she is the 
 person you represent her to be, we have no autho- 
 rity whatever by which we could refuse to give her 
 up to Smith, were he to come this day to demand 
 her. This Smith may be the same person as Captain 
 Percy, and yet this woman not be Margaret Gordon ; 
 she may be his sister, as he claims her to be ; this is 
 more likely to be the case than that he should have 
 feigned the death of his wife, a lady of fortune, by 
 whose death he had all to lose and nothing to gain." 
 
 We are poor vacillating creatures, swayed about 
 by every wind of doctrine ; an hour ago 1 could 
 have laid my hand on the Evangel and said that my 
 solemn conviction was, that the one we talked about 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 was Lady Gordon's dauo-htor; since I had listejied 
 to the nun's last words, I asked myself was it not 
 much more likely that she was indeed Captain 
 Percy's sister, not his wile, and that her seclusion 
 from the world was anrr«H»d on lor private reasons, by 
 his family as well as himself. 
 
 The perfect faith in Mrs Percy's death entertained 
 by the young woman I had seen in Kay's Hotel, 
 every argument I had ever used to covivince myself of 
 the utter fallacy of believing she could still be in life, 
 and they were many, came crowding into my mind 
 at once, and I replied in a feeble undecided way, 
 
 " I think I would be able to recognize Mrs. Percy's 
 features if I had time given me to look at her for 
 some minutes, without tear of disturbing her." 
 
 " As to that," replied the nun, " we must consult 
 the sister who has charge of the invalid." As she 
 spoke she opened a little window in the wall of the 
 room and requested some one within to go in search 
 of Sister St. Nativity. 
 
 In a few minutes Sister St. Nativity made her 
 appearance, and at once a'yreed to my seeing the 
 patient in question, saying that it would not disturb 
 her in the least, one or two visitors to other patients 
 had stopped at her bed, attracted by her appearance, 
 and she did not seem to notice or heed them at all. 
 
 The i^rioress then led the way, and while follow- 
 ing her, accompanied by Sister St. Nativity, I asked 
 the latter if she had hopes of the ultimate recovery 
 of the i^atient we were going to see ? 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 859 
 
 ■" I dare say she may recover," replied the mm, 
 ■ bui I do not think it is at all desirable ; I under- 
 stand enough of English to know that all desire is 
 ^nerged in one, and that one is for death, \vhic'h she 
 .hopes will reunite her to those she has lost ; the 
 first day she came she seemed a little cheerful, since 
 then every day as it has risen, has found lier more 
 <lepressed and in a lower state physically than the 
 previous ; the journey she took was too long, and 
 taken in too rough a vehicle ; she has never recovered 
 from the eil'ects of it, and i)robably never will ; she 
 is utterly prostrated ; I think she raves continually 
 while asleep, ])ut in a iee])le quiet way ; she never 
 •opens her eyes more than half; nothing rouses her.*' 
 
 "We were at the door of the sick dormitory, and 
 Sister ^t. Nativity took precedence when we entered, 
 that she might point out the bed of the one we 
 ■sought ; this was scarcely necessary, the beautiful 
 lair face and head, with its wealth of pale brown 
 hair falling back from her face and round her neck 
 und shoulders in wavy folds, was in striking contrast 
 to the other faces lying on the beds we passed ere 
 reaching hers, some of which were in truth beautiful, 
 but the skin was invaria])ly soft and brown or sallow, 
 I he eyes black or brown. 
 
 When we came up to the bed of the ]^iglish girl, 
 as Sister tSt. Nativity called her, the latter placed me 
 :at the foot so that I might have full opportunity of 
 seeing while the nun spoke to her, and ascert.ained 
 if she was awake ; she was lying with closed eyes. 
 
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 and unlike the time when I saw her pass in the- 
 waggon, when she was quite pale, the fever had 
 now given a slight hectic to her cheek, both arms; 
 lay outside the white quilt, the hands not very small 
 but beautifully shaped, just as I had heard them 
 described many and many a time, but the two rings 
 which were to be the mark by which I was to 
 distinguish Mrs, Percy's dead body were not there ;; 
 there was no ring on either hand ! I felt my heart 
 grow faint and sick, and my eyes dim, as I looked. 
 
 *' You wake, poor child ?" asked the nun, in her 
 broken English. 
 
 The fair head turned on its pillow ; a faint sad 
 smile played for an instant round the red full lips,. 
 a second more the eyelids opened wide and then 
 slowly closed again over the soft dark grey orbs, but 
 in that second I had seen the original of the Cabinet 
 picture ! 
 
 Almost unconsciously my lips gave utterance to 
 the thoughts passing in my heart, and I said in a. 
 low voice, " Oh ! yes, that is Lady Grordon's daughter.'*^ 
 
 As I spoke, the invalid moved her hand back and 
 forth uneasily on the pillow, saying in a low voice — 
 " I want Mamma." 
 
 " Out, pauvre enfant, you get Mamma," said sister 
 St. Nativity soothingly, but it seemed to have a. 
 contrary effect, as immediately she rocked her head 
 again, saying in accents a little louder than before.. 
 
 " I want Mamma." 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 861 
 
 Those words wore spoken with Lady Gordon's 
 voice ; if the two rings were missing the face and 
 voice testified to me clearly, the lost was found, the 
 dead alive ! 
 
 But I knew well that a better testimony than mine 
 would be required to convince the prioress, and 
 eveiji with the thought came another, that Sandy 
 Mitchell had been sent across the sea by Margaret 
 Gordon's Father in Heaven to give this testimony. 
 
 Sister St. Nativity motioned to the prioress and 
 myself to begone ; she evidently feared an accession 
 of the fever, which although slow and undefined in 
 its character, was consuming the life of the poor 
 invalid but too surely. 
 
 "When we had reached the door of the dormitory^, 
 I stopped, and touching lightly the arm of the nun 
 to attract her notice, I said — 
 
 "It has just now occurred to me that a young 
 brother of Lady Gordon's housekeeper, one not quite 
 so old as Mrs. Percy, is within a few miles of Mon- 
 treal ; he must know her face well, as he has seen 
 her and been familiar with her appearance from his 
 boyhood ; he came to Canada in the same vessel as 
 I did, and in conversation with him then, he told 
 me many anecdotes of Mrs. Percy both previous to 
 and after her marriage ; I can get him to satisfy 
 you as to her indentity ; as to myself I am certain 
 it is Lady Gordon's daughter, and no other who lies 
 on yonder bed. I suppose you will take the testimony 
 of this lad until her friends arrive from Scotland ?" 
 
 
 IIF 
 
 r is ,, 
 
 ■ 1-1 
 
 '■ -I 
 
 1 
 
 
w 
 
 S62 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 !:i 
 
 I 
 
 " It is probable the Superior will," replied the nnn, 
 speaking slowly, as if while she spoke, her thoughts 
 were otherwise occupied. " But you will excuse me 
 for saying what I do ; you are a stranger to us, and 
 the community must be very careful how it acts; 
 were we to refuse giving up the invalid to Smith, 
 unless we had the most undoubted authority as to 
 her really being the one you say, and that all the 
 circumstances you have detailed are true, we might 
 be involving ourselves in a law suit w^hich would 
 give the superior much trouble, and perhaps cost 
 thousands of dollars. In sending for this young man, 
 I should wish you to giA'e us his address ; two of the 
 lay sisters w411 bring him here, and you can wait 
 until he comes." 
 
 "I wall gladly give his address," replied I, and 
 taking a card from my card case, I wrote on the 
 back the address of Sandy Mitchell at Mrs. Camp- 
 bell's son-in-law's, and handed it to the prioress. " And 
 in the meanwhile, instead of idling away my time 
 here, I will go to Doctor Balfour, of whom I spoke 
 to you before, and get him to send a cablegram to 
 inform Mrs. Percy's friends that she is found." 
 
 " Yes, do," replied the nun, in a more friendly 
 voice than she had yet used. *' It is always well to 
 use our time, and not to abuse it in idleness ; I 
 suppose as you are going to Doctor Balfour's, and he 
 lives at the further end of Sherbrooke street, you 
 will have to take a cab ? In this case the lay sisters 
 will go in the same conveyance ; your way lies iu 
 
 m 
 
THE GRAND GOKDONS. 
 
 863 
 
 3 nun, 
 
 >Ugllt8 
 
 Lse me 
 Ls, and 
 D acts; 
 Smith, 
 f as to 
 all the 
 might 
 would 
 ps cost 
 ig man, 
 o of the 
 Ml wait 
 
 I, and 
 on the 
 
 Camp- 
 ,. "And 
 ny time 
 I spoke 
 tvram to 
 
 Ifriendly 
 well to 
 
 Iness; I 
 
 and he 
 
 iet, you 
 
 sisters 
 
 lies in 
 
 the same direction," looking as she spoke at the card 
 she held in her hand. " They can leave you there, 
 and call for you on their return ; this will save an 
 unnecessary expense ; I will send for the cab, and 
 on your return you can pay for it." 
 
 I at once agreed to this, at same time wondering 
 at the trouble the prioress took in sending two of the 
 lay nuns for Sandy Mitchell, an office I could have 
 as well performed myself. "When I knew more of 
 the convent and its ways, I understood why all this 
 trouble was taken ; it was to prevent my having any 
 communication with Sandy Mitchell, previous to her 
 own personal inv^estigation of him, as to what he 
 knew of the invalid and her precedents. 
 
 The cab man must have been within call, as in a 
 few minutes we were seated inside, and shortly after 
 I was left at Doctor Balfour's door. 
 
 I told the good doctor all I had heard and seen 
 since I last saw him, and my lirm conviction that 
 Sandy Mitchell would recognize at onc( in the occu- 
 pant of the sick bed. Lady Gordon's daughter. 
 
 He was delighted with the news I gave him, and 
 dilated on his own far-sightedness in having always 
 said Mrs. Percy was yet alive ; when I mentioned 
 to him my intention of the same evening sending 
 a cable telegram, he approved highly of this, as it 
 would bring Mr. Morton to my aid at least a fortnight 
 sooner than a letter would do, adding however — 
 
 " If you send your cablegram to-morrow it will be 
 equally in time as if it went to-night ; the steamer 
 
 ,-'1»''!i I 
 
 ■■' ' B 
 
 < '5 
 
364 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 does not sail from Glasgow until Friday; by telegraph- 
 ing early to-morrow you give him three days to 
 prepare for his journey." 
 
 This was satisfactory to me, as I had already given 
 the nun all my available funds out of the bank, and on 
 consulting my watch I found it was now within half 
 an hour of the time the bank would shut for the day. 
 
 The nuns were not long in finding out and return- 
 ing with Sandy Mitchell, who I saw, as he sat on the 
 dickey beside the driver, had spruced himself up 
 in his Sunday clothes for the occasion. As I bade 
 goodbye to the Reverend Doctor, he begged of me 
 to come to him early on the morrow and let him 
 know the result of Sandy's interview with the invalid, 
 at same time warning me neither to speak to nor 
 otherwise notice the young man at present, as it was 
 evidently the desire of the nuns to prevent any 
 communication between us. > 
 
 ' We reached the convent, and were duly ushered 
 into the presence of the prioress, who either by 
 accident or design, was seated in the same room as 
 I had first seen her ; a& I entered she motioned me 
 to take a seat by the door, and beckoning to Sandy, 
 placed him near herself at the further end of the 
 room ; having done this she opened a glass door just 
 opposite to where I sat, disclosing as she did so an 
 old grey haired man, dressed in the long black robe 
 worn by the priests in Montreal, and seated by a 
 table, on which rested a well worn book, which he 
 was occupied in reading, moving his lips as if he 
 
 Mt 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 365 
 
 pronounced each word in doing so ; she stopped for 
 a second or two in the doorway which was close by 
 the table at which the old man read, and having 
 thus attracted his attention to herself, said in French, 
 the tone of her voice and manner while speaking 
 evincing the reverence she felt for the person ad- 
 dressed. 
 
 " Father, the young Englishman is here, as also 
 the lady, will you examine him in private ?" 
 
 " No," was the reply. " I will speak to him in 
 presence of both yourself and the lady, and also 
 hear what he has to say." 
 
 As the priest spoke, he rose and entered the 
 outer apartment, displaying as he did so a tall and 
 (notwithstanding his age which could not have been 
 less than seventy years) graceful figure, with a 
 finely shaped face and head. As he entered, his keen 
 dark eye took in at a glance all who were in the 
 roori ; moving his head slightly in acknowledgement 
 of my presence as his eye encountered mine ; I had 
 then never seen a prince ; I have since seen more 
 than one, but I have never seen prince or peer, who 
 in graceful dignity or courtly air, would bear com- 
 parison with that old man in a priest's garment. 
 
 As he approached the upper end of the room where 
 Sandy stood, he desired the lad to take off his hat 
 speaking English in an accent as purely English as 
 his French was French. The poor lad did as he was 
 bid, in manifest confusion at his own neglect ; the 
 convent with its massive walls and doors, the stained 
 
 "M, 
 
 :,M.' 
 
 il'^ 
 
366 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 glass windows, the pictures of saints, the nuns in their 
 black dresses and white hoods, all so diflferent to 
 what he had ever seen in his own Scottish home, 
 had evidently so occupied his attention as to com- 
 pletely monopolize all his faculties to aft entire 
 forgetfulness of self The nun, it is true, had more 
 than once said to him in accents the last time far 
 from mild, " Otez voire chajieau" but the poor lad, in 
 his entire ignorance of her language, paid no attention 
 whatever to the injunction, and, warned by Doctor 
 Balfour, I would not have spoken to him had he 
 been guilty of a much greater breach of politeness. 
 
 "You are a Scotchman,.! presume?" began the 
 priest. 
 
 " I am that, Sir," replied Sandy, looking at his 
 interrogator with a self confidence I was pleased to 
 see him assume. 
 
 " What is your name ?" was the next question. 
 
 " Sandy Mitchell." 
 
 " "Were you, w^hile in Scotland, connected with 
 any family of rank ?" inquired the priest, watching 
 the young man's face closely as he spoke. 
 
 " No, no," replied Sandy, speaking quickly, as if 
 he would instantly disclaim any pretension to a 
 higher station in life than his own. "We are all 
 just farmer folk ; all my friends by Mother's and 
 Father's side both are just farmer folk." 
 
 The priest understood him thoroughly, and put 
 his question in another form, using a term in so 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 86T 
 
 doing, which showed plainly that he himself had at 
 one time resided in, or at all events passed through 
 the country of which he spoke, and knew the fami- 
 liar form of speech belonging to its denizens. 
 
 " I do not speak of your relatives ; I wish to know 
 if you were acquainted "\vith any of the gentles 
 where you lived ?" 
 
 " Oh ! aye," replied the lad, as if at once on familiar 
 ground. " I kent all the Grand Gordons round about 
 Edinburgh and Leith well enough ; my sister Marion 
 is house-keeper at Lady Gordon's in Leith, au' I 
 lived at the big house myself for two or three years^ 
 when I was a little chap." 
 
 " Then you know all Lady Gordon's children ?" 
 
 " Yes, I know them all very well." 
 
 " How many daughters had she ?" 
 
 " That's easy counted, she had only one." 
 
 " Was Lady Gordon's daughter the eldest or young- 
 est of the family ?" 
 
 " She was neither the ane nor the ither ; she had 
 two brothers aulder than her and ane younger. {Sir 
 Robert is the youngest." 
 
 " That was rather a strange thing, how did the 
 youngest son come to inherit his father's title ?" 
 
 " Na, it wasna a strange thing at a'," replied Sandy, 
 apparently a little nettled, as if he thought the 
 priest's words implied a doubt of his veracity, and 
 expressing himself as we all do under excitement in 
 the tongue of his early days. " Maister Reginald 
 
 ri 
 
 HI 
 
 
 ■( 
 
 ■ in 
 
368 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 .ti 
 
 }! I 
 
 gaed awa lang sine, an' hasna sent word hame for 
 mony a year, so naebody kens gin he's livin' or dead, 
 an Maister Evan deed lang ago afore Sir Alexander ; 
 but I canna be answering ony more of yer questions ; 
 the two women at came for me, said I was wanted 
 to see a sick woman fae Scotland or else I would na 
 hae come ; the folk up at the ftirm are very busy 
 wi' the harvest-work, an I'm but a hired man, I have 
 nae time to be palavering here ; I better go an' see 
 the woman the noo." , 
 
 The priest looked a little perplexed, and I said io 
 him in French, my veil still covering my face as 1 
 had worn it. since leaving Doctor Balfour's. 
 
 " You had better tell him that it is to do good to 
 the Grordon family, and save them from trouble, that 
 he is asked these questions." The priest acting on 
 my suggestions said — 
 
 " As you have known these Grand Grordons in your 
 young days and served them too, I suppose you 
 would be glad to do them a kindness, if you could 
 do so without much trouble to yourself. It is believed 
 that one of the family is now in circumstances of great 
 peril; by remaining here until you answer all the 
 questions I choose to put to you, you may enable me 
 to rescue the person I allude to from this evil ; are 
 you willing to do this ?" 
 
 " Yes, I'm willing to stay and answer your ques- 
 tions if its goin' to do good to ony o' Lady Gordon's 
 family ; say on, I'll stay here all day if you like ; my 
 •day's wage is but a small affair, an' my master can 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 300 
 
 Iceep that for the loss o' my time ; I would go through 
 the river at midnight for ony o' the Gordon family." 
 
 The priest smiled, evidently amused as "well as 
 pleased, by the impetuosity with which the young 
 man spoke, and replying, " no such sacrifice as that 
 will be required of you," resumed his interrogations. 
 
 " I suppose Sir Kobert is a Baronet in right of his 
 father ?" 
 
 *' Oh ! aye, the're all Barons or something mair, 
 the Gordons," replied Sandy in a careless tone, as if 
 that at least was a superfluous question, which in 
 truth it appeared to me. 
 
 ♦* AVhere is Sir Eobert Gordon now ? 
 
 " I reckon he's at Rockgirtisle Castle where he aye 
 bides." 
 
 " Where is Lady Gordon's daughter ?" 
 
 " I cannot tell you that. Sir; I wish I could," replied 
 the young man in a grave manner, and with a soft 
 pathos of voice almost sorrowful. 
 
 " Is she married ?" 
 
 " Yes, Sir, she was married with an English gentle- 
 man, an officer." 
 " What Is his name ?" 
 "Captain Percy." 
 " Where is Captain Percy ?" 
 
 " I think he's in this town ; I have seen him twice 
 «ince I came here ; I saw him last Friday." 
 
 " It is probable then that his wife is with him ?" 
 *' May be she is," replied Sandy. " But the wife 
 
 I 
 
 ^ji3|i^ 
 
 k-i (Pill 
 
370 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 that's with him is no Miss Gordon. I told you before 
 that I didna know anything about it; a year aibre 
 Lady Gordon died there came word from India that 
 Mrs. Percy was dead, but Lady Gordon would never 
 hear to its being true, and my sister Marion thinks, 
 it's a got up story too." 
 
 " When did Lady Gordon die ?" 
 
 " She died in the Spring, between four and five 
 months sine." 
 
 " Then you say that Lady Gordon lived a year- 
 after she heard of her daughter's death, not believing 
 it to be true ; she must in all that time have made 
 some endeavor to find this out." 
 
 " I cannot tell that ; it's no likely that a servant 
 man like me wad hear everything 'at her Ladyship 
 did, but 1 did hear that she w^as going to India to 
 seek out Mrs. Percy and bring her home, but she 
 took a paralatic, and after that I'm thinking she^ 
 never rose from her bed till she died, but Miss St. 
 Clare, that was Master Charles' and Miss Leonora's 
 governess came here in the same ship that I did, to 
 try and find Mrs. Percy. Lady Gordon left a lot o' 
 money for that ; they think she's here now, but the 
 last time I saw Miss St. Clare she said she could get 
 no word of her, living or dead ; maybe I'm doing 
 what I should na, telling you, for Miss St. Clare 
 said she was na going to tell anybody, but if it's no 
 for good the sin be on your head ; you said you 
 wanted to take some o' the family out o' trouble, an* 
 it's for that I tell'd you." 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 371 
 
 " Yon havo done no harm, my man, in anythinir 
 you have told mo ; if what you have said will have 
 any eftect it will be for good to those you wish to 
 serve ; I think you may now go and see the sick 
 woman." 
 
 The priest now spoke a few words in an under 
 tone to the prioress, and Sister St. Nativity, who had 
 entered the room a few minutes before ; they were 
 evidently favorably impressed by what they heard 
 from the priest, and led by the latter, we all moved 
 in the direction of the hospital. 
 
 On entering the dormitory where the supposed 
 Mrs. Percy lay, Sister St. Nativity plac T my<3lf ar I 
 the prioress as she had formerly done, at the bottom 
 of the iiuaiid's bed, so that we could ser hv^ while 
 sl)o could not see us without sitting up, thus avoiding 
 as much as possible exciting the patient ; the priest 
 stood behind the nun and myself, while the hospital 
 nun, motioning to Sandy, who on leaving the reception 
 room had replaced his hat on his head, and now 
 wore it, seemingly unheeded by the priest, brought 
 him to the bedside of the patient, directed to do so 
 by the priest. 
 
 " Man, come see vous pauvre enfant" said Sister St. 
 Nativity, bending kindly over the pale face, which 
 lay with closed eyes in almost the same position it 
 had occupied in the morning ; the invalid neither 
 moved nor spoke, and to my grief, Sandy gazed on 
 the pale face as if it were one he had never seen ; 
 both nuns and the priest exchanged significant 
 
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 '■ 'I 
 
 Y ' 1 
 
 S72 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 glances, while I fancied a shade of regret passed 
 over the face of the prioress. 
 
 " Poor young: lady, she's very sick like," said Sandy, 
 speaking his thoughts more than addressing himself 
 to any one. As he spoke, the heavy eyelids were 
 slowly raised, disclosing the full grey eye w^hich 
 fixed itself on Sandy's face ; no sign of recognition 
 there either ; my heart felt as if sinking within me, 
 all hope was over now ; this fair woman could not 
 be the one I sought ; and as this conviction forced 
 itself upon me, I felt more sorrow for the poor 
 invalid, exposed as she would now be, unaided by 
 human help, to the man Smith, who so surely sought 
 her life, than disappointment in not having found 
 Mrs. Percy as I supposed I had, great as that 
 disappointment was ; and I resolved to devote the 
 money I had earned by coming to Canada in trying 
 to save this poor young woman from her persecutor. 
 
 I looked helplessly in the face of the prioress, 
 whose eyes expressed a pitiful regret, as they looked 
 on the beautiful head before us ; my eyes took the 
 direction of her's, the vacant look had left the face, 
 the eyes were dilated, and full of an expression 
 intense with delight, the blood mounting to her 
 cheek, the half opening lips, the whole face speaking 
 eloquently of life and beauty. Sandy Mitchell seemed 
 under the influence of some powerful feeling which 
 transfixed him with astonishment ; he took one step 
 forward nearer to the bed, and seizing his hat, threw 
 it on the floor, exclaiming as he did so — 
 
THE C4RAND GORDONS. 
 
 873 
 
 « Oh ! Miss Tiny, is that you ?" ' 
 
 " Sandy Mitchell, when did you come ?" almost 
 simultaneously bursting from the lips of the beautiful 
 invalid. 
 
 No more was needed — Lady Gordon's daughter 
 was found — indeed and in truth. Covering my face 
 with my hands, that I might hide the foolish tears 
 which would fall like rain, repress them as I might, 
 I said aloud to our Father in Heaven, in thankfulness 
 of heart such as I had never before felt, and which 
 must find utterance or die — 
 
 " Thank God ! Thank God !" 
 
 A soft "Amen" from the lips of the old grey 
 haired priest recalled me to the scene before me. 
 
 Mrs. Percy had stretched out both her white 
 hands, and as I looked, took Sandy's great brown 
 hand between her own, and pressed it as he had 
 been her brother, while she again repeated her 
 question — 
 
 " When did you come ?" 
 
 The poor fellow was much in the same case as 
 myself, his tears falling like a child's ; at last he was 
 able to sob out — 
 
 " I came with Miss St. Clare, who Lady Gordon 
 ordered in her will was to be sent for you." 
 
 The invalid looked in hir. eyes as if she would 
 read there what he meant. 
 
 "Miss St. Clare, Sandy, who is that? I dont 
 recollect Miss St. Clare." 
 
 |5 
 
 -J ^ 
 
 
 
 iff 
 
 :.;ti 
 
 ii 
 
 ■■■J 
 
374 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 r< i 
 
 '- II 
 
 " No, mem," replied Sandy. " She's nobody you 
 know, she's only Master Charles' and Miss Leonora's 
 governess, but Lady Gordon shewed her great res- 
 pect, and took her to her own table, and they say 
 she's w^ell book-learned." 
 
 "While Sandy Mitchell spoke, the poor invalid's face 
 resumed its sad expression, and she said piteously — 
 
 " That was long ago, Sandy. Did she live with 
 Mamma after Charlie and Ora died ?" 
 
 The lad's face flushed up, as w^ith a voice of 
 dismay, half choked with emotion, he said — 
 
 " Master Charles and Missy both dead ! when did 
 they die, mem?" 
 
 " Oh ! Sandy, did you not know^ ? they died more 
 than a year ago." 
 
 Sandy's face brightened, and again as quickly 
 became overcast ; looking at Mrs. Percy, with a sober 
 serious air, he said — 
 
 " No, mem, begging your pardon for contradicting 
 one like your Ladyship; your mistaen, the children 
 were w^ell and hearty the day her Ladyship was 
 buried ; I made tw^o little wooden boats about the 
 size o' my hand, an put sails on them, and took them 
 up to them that afternoon, after her Ladyship's body 
 w^as taen to the mausoleum, and Madame Peltier 
 hided them in her black apron for fear Marion w^ould 
 see them, and her and me took the children, to the 
 little pond at the far off end of the fruit garden, where 
 they couldna see us from the windows, the leaves 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 875 
 
 ■were all out sae thick, an beautiful an green, an I 
 tied great long strings of cord (that Betty gave me 
 out of the pantry) to the boats, and then set them 
 sailing m the pond. Master Charles wi' one string 
 and Missy wi' the other, ye never saw how delighted 
 they were ; Missy lost hold of her string clapping 
 her hands, an' I had to put oiF my shoes and stockings 
 (saving vour presence) and wade in for the boat; 
 they were both crying for fear it would be lost, and 
 after all the pains we had hiding the boats from 
 Iviarion, the children told her all about the fun they 
 iiad when they came home to their tea ! Marion was 
 as mad as a March hare, and put all the blame on 
 Tny shoulders ; she said she wadna have it kent in 
 Edinburgh or Leith for twenty pound, — 'at the day 
 •of Lady Gordon's burial should be keepit like the 
 Sabbath, and I kent that well enough mysel, but I 
 thought it was no sin to let the bairns play themsels 
 a wee while down in the back garden, where nae- 
 "body saw them." 
 
 Mrs. Percy's eyes were full of tears which slowly 
 •coursed each other down her face, as Sandy spoke of 
 her children, and the home and grounds so familiar 
 and so dear ; when he had ceased speaking, she 
 pressed one hand to her forehead, passing it once or 
 twice across, her countenance meanwhile wearing a 
 bewildered expression ; then with the same piteous 
 look as before, y^garding the young man steadfastly 
 as she spoke, she said — 
 
 *'■ You must be right, Sandy, my mind is sometimes 
 
 'm 
 
876 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 \tU 
 
 f ■ 
 
 :■■ i ! 
 
 : 1 
 
 I 
 
 SO confused, I daie say I mix things up, when did 
 the children die ?" 
 
 " The children are not dead, mem," replied Sandy^ 
 "with a steady voice and look, yet with a sadness in 
 both which told plainly that he fancied the poor 
 mother's wits were astray, an idea strongly impressed 
 on my own mind. 
 
 " Oh ! yes, Sandy," replied she, closing her eyes as. 
 she spoke, with a sad weary look, " they are both 
 dead and buried long long ago ; more than a year 
 since ; I have counted every day and hour of the lon^^ 
 weary time." 
 
 " I beg your pardon again, mem, for contradicting 
 a lady like yourself," replied Sandy, his Scotch accent 
 coming out strongly in the resolute way he spoko,. 
 " but the children were both strong and well the day 
 before I left Leith, and that's not five months yet ; 
 1 went up to the house in the morning early, before 
 they were out of their beds and Marion took me up to 
 the nursery to see them in their little cots, and they 
 both wakened up as fresh as little birds, and when 
 Marion told them I was going to the place their 
 Mamma was in, they both cried out in one breath — 
 
 " Oh ! Sandy, tell Mamma to come home ;" as he 
 spoke the lad's face crimsoned up with something 
 very like shame, and diving his hand into one of his 
 pockets he produced a small parcel wrapped up in 
 white writing paper, from which he took a narrow 
 piece of dark blue velvet which looked as if it had 
 been worn on the neck, and a child's coral necklace 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 37T 
 
 did 
 
 long: 
 
 as he 
 thill g^ 
 of his 
 up ill 
 arrow 
 t had 
 klace^ 
 
 of large round beads, with a broad antique gold 
 clasp, on which, even at the distance I stood, I saw 
 a crest deeply engraved, and handing both to Mrs. 
 Percy said — 
 
 " I forgot all about this, though I've kept it in 
 my sabbath coat pocket ever since I got it ; "When 
 Miss Leonora was bidding me goodbye, she took off 
 her necklace and said to me, ' the first time you see 
 Mamma, give her this necklace, and tell her it is a 
 present from Missy, and I want her to come home. ' 
 Madame Peltier spoke to her in French, and I was 
 so accustomed to be with them, that I knew well 
 enough that she forbade her to give away her 
 necklace, but Marion said, ' Certainly, Miss Leonora, 
 send it to your Mamma, it was her's before ii was 
 your's, and her own name is on it ; I'm glad you 
 thought of sending it,' and then nothing would do 
 with Master Charlie but he must send something too, 
 and he wanted to send the black ribbon that was 
 laid out to put on with his collar, but Marion said it 
 would not be lucky to send black, and bid Madame 
 bring his blue velvet, so now you have them both, 
 Mem ; when I brought them home to our house, my 
 mother made me put them in the pocket of my 
 Sabbath coat; she said it was more likely I would 
 see you when I had it on than when I was at my 
 work, and if I kept them there, I would be sure to 
 do Miss Leonora's bidding, and give it to you the 
 first time I saw you, but deed I was very like to 
 have forgot it ; everything here about, made me so 
 confused like, and they didna tell me it was yoa 
 
 t-; 
 
 M 
 
 mn 
 
 ' ■< 
 
 i1 
 
 ' 
 
378 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 uwh 
 
 I ''.' 
 
 that they wanted me for ; they did not even say it 
 was a lady ; if they had I would have jealoused it 
 w^as yon ; I have a large parcel in my trunk that 
 Marion sent ; she said it was part of the things Lady 
 Gordon was taking out with her if she had lived to 
 come, but in course I never thought of bringing it ; 
 but it's no matter, it's only three miles to where I 
 work ; I can bring it yet before dark." 
 
 "While he was speaking, Mrs. Percy gazed on his 
 face with dilated eyeballs, her blue grey eyes looking 
 like dark brown, her lips rigidly compressed, as if 
 her heart was beating too hard, and she feared it 
 might fail ere she could hear to the end what was to 
 her of such intense interest, a red spot on each cheek 
 deepening as he spoke ; For a second or two after 
 he had ceased speaking, a muscle of her face moved 
 not ; she seemed to fear disturbing the impression 
 his words had made ; at last lifting up the necklace 
 and velvet she looked narrowly at both, and putting 
 them inside the bosom of her night dress, turned 
 again to Sandy, saying — 
 
 " Tell me truly, Sandy, is the old house sold for 
 a brewery, and is the shrubbery full of brewer's 
 barrels?" 
 
 Sandy gazed at her for a second or two as if dumb 
 with dismay, every feature of his face and figure, as 
 lie stood with uplifted hands, expressive of the deep 
 concern he felt, believing as he must have done, that 
 ehe was giving utterance to the ravings of a dis- 
 ordered imagination, 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 379 
 
 " Lord help us, mem, what could put that in your 
 head ? there's nobody could sell the house or the land 
 either, but yoursel' now that her Ladyship's dead * 
 saving your presence, mem, you should not let your- 
 self think on such terrible nonsense as that ; the house 
 is as well keepit as it was when Lady Gordon was 
 livin', everything is ready waiting for you till you come 
 home ; and for the garden, the apples and plums are 
 hanging thick enough on the trees there, I'll war- 
 rant; my father said he never saw a better show of 
 fruit ; he was in the garden all the time, I was in 
 the nursery the morning before I came away, and he 
 should ken about fruit trees, gin anybody should." 
 
 She still kept her eyes fixed on Sandy's face, the 
 dilated pupils and the bright spot on her cheek fear- 
 fully apparent, and immediately he ceased speaking, 
 she said, uttering her words calmly and slowly, as if 
 she would convince him she was speaking the words 
 of truth and soberness — 
 
 " Sandy, some one told me that Mamma had left 
 her house and all her money away from me, is that 
 true ? do you know what her will is ?" 
 
 " No Mem, I dont know what her Ladyship's will 
 is, but 1 know one thing, that Marion is bidden by it 
 to stay in the house till you come yoursel' and to 
 keep everything ready for you if you should not 
 come for fifty years ; and if Marion dies before you 
 come home, some other capable woman is to be put 
 in her place, and Miss ^t. Clare, as I told you, was 
 cent out to bring you home. The last time I saw her 
 
 ! 
 
 I 
 
 f 1 
 
 i 
 
 IS 
 
 
 
 ft' 
 
 Ml 
 
880 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 1. ;! I 
 
 V' ? \l 
 
 she said she had not found out yet where you stopt ; 
 I know the place she bides in, I'll better go and 
 bring her here; she can tell everything about the 
 children, and her Ladyship, and all. Will I go for 
 Miss St. Clare, Mem?" 
 
 The invalid closed her eyes, letting her head fall 
 back on the pillow as if perfectly exhausted ; lifting" 
 up her arms, she placed a hand on each side of her 
 head, the fingers folding over each other on the top ; 
 she lay thus a few seconds, and then without open- 
 ing her eyes, said-^ 
 
 " Oh ! can this be reality, or is it a dream" ? 
 
 " No. mem, it's no a dream, " said Sandy, leaning a 
 little more towards her, with an earnest serious face 
 and manner. " But it was a dream sent by the 
 enemy that made you think o' beer barrels in the 
 garden o' Rockgirtisle House ; I wish we had some 
 Godly Minister to speak to you, he would soon put 
 such like thoughts out o' your head ; you might say 
 • Our Fath^jr which art in Heaven' and ' Now I lay 
 me down to sleep' yoursel', mem, an ye would be 
 the better o' it." 
 
 His words had touched some hidden chord, vibra- 
 ting probably with some remembrances of her happy 
 girlhood, and moving her soul almost to agony, send- 
 ing a longing lingering look on the irrecallable past ; 
 sob after sob came fast and quick, and her tears fell 
 as if her head were a fountain of waters ; Sister St. 
 Nativity motiofted us all away, I thought none too 
 soon. 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 381 
 
 Sandy came towards the priest, and asked in an 
 under voice if ho would go for Miss St. Clare ; I did 
 not now fear making him aware of my presence, and 
 throwing up my veil, I lifted my finger, pressing it 
 to my lips in token of silence. 
 
 Quietly as we moved, the poor sorrow-stricken one 
 was attracted by the movement, and missing Sandy, 
 she looked round, exclaiming quickly as she did so — 
 
 " Sandy, where are you ? dont go away, you are to 
 stay with me." 
 
 " No mem," replied he, turning round and going 
 quickly towards the bed again. I'll no go away ; I'll 
 bide down the stair, maybe the ither ladies dinna 
 care for me being here," looking as he spoke at the 
 beds on either side, which he of course supposed to 
 contain ladies of equal rank with Mrs. Percy. " And 
 when you want me to go a message or anything else, 
 you can send her for me, " inclining his head as he 
 spoke towards Sister St. Nativity. 
 
 The prioress laid her hand on his arm, and motion- 
 ed him to follow her which he did; looking back 
 however once or twice to the bed where Mrs. Percy 
 lay, ere he left the room. 
 
 The priest led the way into the room \vhere he 
 had interrogated Sandy respecting his knowledge of 
 Mrs. Percy's family, the latter cooly seating himself 
 on one chair while he placed his hat upon another ; 
 he had scarcely done so, however, when he started 
 up and coming to me, said — 
 
 iU 
 
 M 
 
382 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 Rl 
 
 " ii 
 
 
 M h 
 
 " I'll better go now for Mrs. Percy's parcel ; if she 
 wants me before I come back, you can tell her what 
 took me away; I'll be back as fast as my feet can 
 carry me." 
 
 I was a little nonplussed what to say, knowini^ as 
 I did that it was impossible for Sandy to remain 
 within the precincts of a cloistered convent, and 
 aware it would be difficult to convince the youngs 
 man there was any power superior to the will of 
 Lady Gordon's daughter, whose slightest behest 
 he had been accustomed from his boyhood to see 
 implicitly obeyed. The priest saw and comprehend- 
 ed my dilemma, and at once came to my aid. 
 
 " My friend," said he pulling out his watch and 
 addressing Sandy as he examined it. " Neither you 
 nor I can remain much longer here ; this house 
 belongs to a community of ladies who devote them- 
 selves to the care of the sick, and no male person is 
 permitted to remain in the house ; you may rest 
 assured however ihat Mrs. Percy will have the 
 greatest care and attention bestowed upon her while 
 she is here ; as an evidence of her perfect confidence 
 in these ladies she was brought to this house at her 
 own request ; you had better go now to your home 
 and bring the parcel you speak of to-morrow ; should 
 Mrs. Percy ask for you in the meantime, she will be 
 told when and why you have gone." 
 
 Sandy seemed far from satisfied with this arrange- 
 ment, but the priest spoke as one having authority, 
 which the lad had sense enough to see it was vain 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 38a 
 
 for him to dispute, but as he was not to be allowed 
 to remain in attendance on Mrs. Percy himself, he 
 probably thought the next best thing he could do 
 was to see that I should not fail in doing so ; he came 
 close up to me, saying in an under tone — 
 
 " I reckon, Miss St. Clare, ye'll bide here and take 
 care of Mrs. Percy till she's able to go home, or else 
 till Marion comes ; I wish fae my heart she was here 
 now." 
 
 " I will stay here," replied I, " as long as I will be 
 allowed to do so, but you must remember that I am 
 a stranger to Mrs. Percy ; when you mentioned my 
 name she did not seem to recollect ever having heard 
 it ; she has been here for several weeks, and is there- 
 fore quite accustomed to these ladies, who are kind 
 enough to attend to the sick here ; in her weak state 
 it would injure her and perhaps prevent her ultimate 
 recovery were a stranger such as I to take the place 
 of one of these ladies, who have nursed her so 
 tenderly since she came among them." 
 
 I knew that Sandy must be imbued with the 
 prejudice which his countrymen and women both 
 have of hired attendance on the sick, and that he 
 might have no scruples on this point, I added — 
 
 " The attendants here are no hired nurses, but 
 ladies who give themselves to this work for the love 
 of God, and to please Him, try to fulfil the perfect law 
 of love to man ; many of these nuns are ladies of 
 fortune from Europe, whose rank i? equal, if not 
 superior, to Mrs. Percy's own." 
 
 \i' !i 
 
 ST 
 
V' 
 
 4J84 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 I ' 
 
 ;. ! > '. 
 
 , M 
 
 Ml 
 
 In my anxiety to set Sandy's mind at ease with 
 regard to Mrs. Percy and her surroundings, I had 
 unwittingly overstept the mark ; drawing himself 
 up to his full height, (no mean one, very nearly 
 approaching six feet) his eye flashing like an eagle's, 
 while his forehead up to the roots of his hair was 
 dyed crimson, he replied in anything but a pleased 
 tone of voice — 
 
 " I daresay the ladies are very good an' rich too ; 
 the house is like that, although the walls are gay 
 bare, and the boards covered but sparely," looking 
 as he spoke from the w^alls to the painted floor, his 
 mind doubtless the while taking a retrospective 
 Teview^ of the richly carpeted apartments and 
 pictured walls of Lady Gordon's house at Leith and 
 the Castle at Rockgirtisle, " but for rank, an' gentle 
 "blood, there's few and far between that can come up 
 to the Grand Gordons, an' for being better, there's 
 none in broad Scotland fae Orkney to Berwick, 
 MacCallum More himsel' no excepted." 
 
 I had unconsciously raised a storm, I was now 
 fain to quell, although I was pleased to see that the 
 priest the only one present who understood English, 
 seemed rather amused than otherwise with this 
 ebullition of Sandy's national pride, in thus standing 
 up for the dignity of the Grand Gordons. I laid my 
 hand gently on the lad's arm, saying as I did so — 
 
 " I do not mean by what I said to under value Mrs. 
 Percy's rank of birth ; I Hved too long in Lady 
 Gordons house not to be perfectly aware that the 
 
THE GRAND O0I1D0N3. 
 
 38 o 
 
 J witK 
 
 I had 
 limseU 
 
 nearly 
 eagle's, 
 lir was 
 pleased 
 
 ch too; 
 are gay 
 looking 
 loor, his 
 spective 
 Lits and 
 eith and 
 i' gentle 
 come up 
 there's 
 erwick, 
 
 ras now 
 I that the 
 I English, 
 rith this 
 Istanding 
 laid my 
 Id so — 
 
 line Mrs. 
 
 lin Lady 
 
 that the 
 
 l)Ost blood in Scotland flows in hor veins, but I wished 
 to convince you that it is impossible for her to bo 
 -cared better for under the circumstances #han she is 
 here ; I will send a telegram by the cable to-morrow, 
 which will bring Marion here with all possible speed ; 
 until then we must feel grateful to God, and praise 
 llira for His goodness in placing Mrs. Percy under 
 the protection of these good ladies ; who knows 
 what might be her fate were she under a roof less 
 hedged in by power, both spiritual and secular, than, 
 this one isV" 
 
 Centuries ago, a wicked man high in the priest- 
 hood in ok Terusalem, prophesied unwittingly ; with 
 reverence be it spoken, even so did I, as I gave 
 Utterance to these last words ; not many days from 
 the one on which they were spoken, had Mrs. Percy 
 been an inhabitant of walls less stroniyly heds^ed in 
 by laws made expressly for themselves than was the 
 •convent of the Sisters of The Holy Cross, her wicked 
 husband w ould have removed her to some wild fast- 
 ness, where civilized man would never see her face, 
 nor hear her voice again. 
 
 Sandy was pacified if not convinced, and took his 
 
 leave, promising to be there early in the morning 
 
 with the parcel given to him by Marion for Mrs. 
 
 Percy. I easily understood why her brother, and 
 
 not myself, was entrusted with the care of this 
 
 parcel ; she had with little difficulty imbued him 
 
 with the same faith in Mrs. Percy's being yet alive 
 
 as she herself held, whereas she knew well, although 
 
 Z 
 
 l\\ 
 
 {■ '-'it 
 
 
 II 
 
 ^"^>M 
 
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 iwa 
 
386 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS 
 
 I did not say so m words, I entertained little or no 
 hope of such being the cose, and would have pro- 
 bably looked upon such a parcel, as being a burden 
 I was to carry with me to Canada, only to bring it 
 myself back to Scotland again. 
 
 After Sandy had taken his departure, the priest 
 said, addressing the prioress and myself jointly — 
 
 " This young man's evidence is perfectly satis- 
 factory as to the Lady upstairs being Lady Gordon 
 of Kockgirtisle's daughter; forty years ago I knew 
 Lady Gordon well, and at times a glance of the eye 
 or an expression of the mouth in Mrs. Percy, spoke 
 or looked like the face I had known ere she herself 
 w^as born. Although Mrs. Percy possesses beauty 
 to a degree of excellence which belongs to her as a 
 Gordon, the Seatons of which family her mother was 
 a daughter, are distinguished more for their size of 
 frame and strength of mind, than beauty of either 
 face or form." 
 
 *' The moment I saw the young man remove his 
 hat so quicky from his head, which he had tena- 
 ciously held to previous to his recognition of his 
 mistress, I felt she was the one we all wished she 
 should turn out to be ; now it is of the first im- 
 portance, that as quickly as possible, a brother or 
 some other near relative be brought to her help." 
 ; Addressing me particularly, he added—" the cable 
 ' telegram you mean to send had better be made as 
 explicit on this point as may be. You may be certain, 
 from the knowledge you have of her husband's con- 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 387 
 
 duct, obtained both in Scotland and here, that as soon 
 as he finds out she has left the Indian's hut and has 
 come here, he will leave no stone unturned to obtain 
 possession of her ; it is very evident he has strong 
 reason for desiring her seclusion from the world if not 
 her departure from it, and it is a question whether 
 the Superior will be entitled to refuse delivering her 
 up to him at once; 'in the event of which taking 
 place you may bid adieu to any hope of ever seeing 
 her again." 
 
 " But," urged I, in reply, " even in the event of 
 Captain Percy linding out where she is, and bringing 
 the Indian with him to testify to his being the man 
 who brought her to Isle Jesus, and paid for her 
 board while there, a tiling very unlikely to happon 
 quickly, as the Indian, by Monsieur Joinnetie's 
 account, has gone to some far off hunting ground, 
 from whence he does not expect to return until next 
 spring, by which time I hope ]Mrs. Percy will be 
 safe in Scotland ; but, sny that he came, supported 
 thus by the Indian, is the Superior not entitled to 
 refuse him possession of his first wife on the plea 
 that he has a second living witli him in jSIontreal ?" 
 
 " That involves a very diflictilt question," was the 
 priest's reply, given ^vith a gravity of expression, 
 which spoke more strongly than even his words. 
 " In the first place, before the Lady Superior could 
 attempt to deny him possession of Mrs. Percy, on 
 the i)lea of his l)eing a bigamist, she must establish 
 this as the truth. From the fact of your Ijoiii^- uiuible 
 to trace him the day alter his arrival li>.'i'o, it is 
 
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 1! 
 
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 388 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 evident he is living in Montreal under an assumed 
 name, so is the woman who calls herself his wife ; if 
 he wills it so, it will involve a long law process to 
 prove that a woman known by a certain name is the 
 wife of a man bearing another. There is yet another 
 view of the case, — she was sent here by the Cur6 of 
 St. Martin's as the sister of a man named Smith ; 
 from the second day she entered the hospital until 
 aroused by the sight of our friend Sandy Mitchell, 
 she was constantly in a state of half stupor, scarcely 
 ever replying to a question, and only uttering inco- 
 herent words ; this lethargy may set in again at any 
 moment, and then it is a question of law whether 
 she can be detained or not, placing the Superior in a 
 most invidious position. An unscrupulous man, 
 such as Captain Percy is described to be, has only 
 to go to the next magistrate, declaring that his 
 sister, who is a woman of large wealth, has been 
 decoyed into the convent of the Holy Cross, and that 
 the covetous nuns who desire to obtain possession of 
 her money, refuse to give her up ! In less than an 
 hour, a posse of policemen will force an entrance 
 into the convent. Smith will have his sister handed 
 over to him, whether for good or evil the multitude 
 care not, so that what the mob call the liberty of the 
 subject is protected." 
 
 " The only way to frustrate his plans for the 
 recovery of Mrs. Percy, is to have some of her 
 friends here as quickly as possible ; meantime, to 
 delay his proceedings I shall write to St. Martin s, 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 389 
 
 sumed 
 ife ; if 
 cess to 
 ! is the 
 .notlier 
 3ur6 of 
 Smith ; 
 al until 
 [itchell, 
 ;carcely 
 isf inco- 
 .. at any 
 kvhether 
 rior in a 
 IS man, 
 las only 
 that his 
 .as been 
 land that 
 lession of 
 than an 
 lentrance 
 handed 
 •altitude 
 ■ty of the 
 
 for the 
 |e of her 
 
 intime, to 
 Martins, 
 
 and thereby make it, for a time at least, an enigma 
 for him to solve where his wife has gone to." 
 
 The prioress and Father Paul (such was the 
 priest's name) bade me a cordial goodbye, the latter 
 bidding me God-speed, and the former by the 
 interest she exhibited in Mrs. Percy's cause, taking 
 me quite by surprise. I could never have fancied 
 that the cold unimpressible nun of the morning, 
 w^ould under any circumstances have thawed out 
 into the kind benevolent woman I found her to be ; 
 although I must say, in all my intercourse, I found 
 she kept the interest of the community strictly in 
 view, giving it a prominence and place above all 
 else; perhaps this is human nature, perhaps she was 
 bound to this line of conduct by her convent vow. 
 In bidding me goodbye, she said — 
 
 " Come every day to see Mrs. Percy if you like. 
 and alw^ays ask for me ; it will save you some 
 trouble." 
 
 o*^f3®l5^^ 
 
 'tl i'a 
 
Iv: 
 
 . t^^' 
 
 
 
 v.._^ <v 
 
 
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 Hi i 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
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 •IH' 
 
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 Im 
 
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 i ^1 i 
 
 .,«^xN leaviiiir the convent T hailod the first cabman 
 '^^l I saw, desirinc^ him to take me to Mrs. Dun- 
 '^'•^ bar's ; I had much need ot repose ; my long 
 journey from Isle Jesus in tlie morninii;, and the ex- 
 citement through which I had passed durnig the 
 succeeding' hours of this most (»vonti'ul day, made rie 
 long for the repose of my own room, Avhich I knew 
 would now be ready for my reception ; it was not until 
 I had reached my sanctum, and thrown mvself into 
 a large easy chair, which kind Mrs. Dunbar had 
 promised to provide so as to be a little comfort to me 
 after my illness, that I began to think of my letters 
 which must have come the previous day, that having 
 been the day of the British mail; looking towards 
 the top of the bureau, I esi>ied them there, in their 
 accustomed place, where Jenny the servant girl 
 always laid them in my absence, as soon as she 
 received them from the Post-man. 
 
 I was so thoroughly worn out that I remained 
 some minutes looking at my treasures in the distance, 
 ere I could summon courage to rise from my reclin- 
 ing position in the easy chair, to possess myself of 
 them ; when I did so, to my surprise there were 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 891 
 
 only two instead of the usual number of four ; as I 
 laid hold of them, my heart fluttered with fear and 
 the thought of Grandpapa's death occuring during- 
 my absence, an idea, which in those days of loneliness 
 often suggested itself to my mind, made my heart 
 feel sick with apprehension, and I sank on a seat 
 close to the bureau, before I had strength to look on 
 the address. Grandpapa was alive and well, two 
 weeks ago ; there was the dear old shaky hand, and 
 1 kissed it with a feeling very unlike my undemon- 
 strative nature ; the other was from Ella, what could 
 have become of my other two? something serious 
 must have occured, or Mr. Morton and Marion 
 would never have both neglected to waite by the 
 same post, and Mr. Morton's letter which I expected 
 was to bring me orders, or at least advice how I was 
 to proceed in my search ; what could he mean by not 
 writing to me?- 
 
 This was the first British weekly mail which had 
 arrived since my coming to Canada without bring- 
 ing me a letter from Mr. Morton, and this of all 
 others was the one I had most longed to receive ; 
 True, had it arrived, its orders or advice would 
 now be futile, but this did not lessen the anxiety 
 I felt from its non-arrival, and I rang my chamber 
 bell in hopes Jenny could throw some light on the 
 missing letter. 
 
 "Jenny," said I, as the girl made her appearance, 
 "How many letters did the Post-man give you for 
 me yesterday ? " 
 
 ,Ji 
 
 ! '> 
 
 «P 
 
■Vf) 
 
 S92 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 i 
 
 n I:- 
 
 I ■••; 
 
 ;. i«' 
 
 "I think he gave me four, Ma'am" replied she^ 
 coloring as she spoke, •* and I put them all down oi* 
 the bureau as usual, but this morning', when I came^ 
 to dust the room I only found two, and I told tho^ 
 mistress in the minute I missed them ; she says she 
 is sure I made a mistake, and miscounted the letters ; 
 perhaps I did, but I think I got four, and I know I 
 put all I got there, for I brought them all straight up 
 from the door, and just laid them down in the place 
 I always do." 
 
 * Perhaps they have fallen over the back of the- 
 bureau, Jenny," suggested I ; '* we will mave it ancJ 
 look." 
 
 " I will move it if you like. Ma'am" replied the^ 
 girl. " But my mistress and me moved everything- 
 in the morning after I missed them, we moved the 
 very bed, and there is not a scrap of paper as big as 
 my little finger in the whole room " 
 
 Notwithstanding this, I had first the bureau, and 
 afterwards everything in the room moved, but no> 
 letters were to be seen. I then examined the girl 
 a second time. 
 
 "Jenny, what makes you think you got four 
 letters?" 
 
 " I'm sure I got four. Ma'am,'* said Jenny in her 
 simple earnest way, " because I paid eight cents for 
 them ; you know they are always two cents a letter 
 when the post-man brings them, and I am quite sure^ 
 I paid eight cents out ol' my own money I had in mv- 
 pocket." 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 305 
 
 A loud rap at the door. " There is tho post-man,'* 
 exclaimed Jenny, and away she ran, returning how-- 
 ever in a second or two almost breathless. 
 
 " Yes, Ma'am, the post-man says there was four, all 
 British letters." 
 
 Close at Jenny's back came Mrs. Dunbar. 
 
 " I'm very sorry for your letters. Miss St. Clare,* 
 said she, looking indeed more grieved than I thought 
 the letters were worth. " But the only way in 
 which I can account for their loss, is by thinking 
 tliat Mr. Danville, the gentleman whi occupied your 
 room last night, has in a mistake put them into his 
 valise ; he told me when he came, that he expected 
 a number of letters by the evening mail, and would 
 probably sit up until twelve o'clock writing, and 
 requested particularly that he would not be dis- 
 turbed, and perhaps when his letters were finishedr 
 he put them on the bureau, and when lifting his own 
 took two of yours y^'^ith them, but if it is so, he is sure 
 to send them back by post as soon as he discovers 
 them. He is too much of a gentleman to keep them 
 an hour in his possession after he has found they are 
 not his own." 
 
 I begged of her not to annoy herself any more 
 about them ; if her supposition was correct, and Mr. 
 Danville should send them back, it would be satis- 
 factory to her, and I would be pleased to have my 
 letters ; if not, I would receive others from the same 
 persons who had written these last letters, next week». 
 and so it mattered very little. 
 
 f 
 
 m 
 
 -t 
 
!; ; 1: 
 
 ii' 
 
 \ .1 
 
 ij! 
 
 ,.{. ,1,. 
 
 f 
 
 .V i 
 
 i 'S 
 
 IP 
 
 
 
 394 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 Alas ! poor human nature, how little we know of 
 what concerns us most ; had those letters not fallen 
 into other hands than my own, in all probability my 
 life-woe would have been spared me. 
 
 Next morning, as soon as I fancied the bank would 
 be open, I went to draw money, that I might pay 
 for the cablegram, and also to supply my own purse, 
 which by giving the forty dollars to the prioress, was 
 now at a low ebb. 
 
 On entering the bank I presented an order signed 
 by myself, and cut from a bank book given me by 
 the gentleman from whom I received the first money 
 I drew from the sum sent to my credit, when I first 
 came to Canada. 
 
 To my surprise, instead of at once receiving the 
 money as usual, the young man I addressed requested 
 me to step into an adjoining apartment, on doing 
 which I found myself in presence of the cashier ; on 
 hearing my name pronounced by the gentleman who 
 accompanied me, the cashier looked up from the desk 
 at which he was writing, without moving his body, 
 and stared me rudely in the face for several seconds, 
 and then speaking in a tone of voice which accorded 
 well with the expression of his countenance, said — 
 
 " We have had orders from Mr. Robert Morton 
 not to honor any drafts of yours for the future." 
 
 " Orders from Mr. Morton not to honor my draft ? 
 impossible !" said I, speaking confidently, and looking 
 him full in the face as I spoke. 
 
 " Nevertheless he has done so ; are you not aware 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 395 
 
 ; awaro 
 
 that he was in town yesterday and called at your 
 boarding-house the x>revious evening ?" As he spoke, 
 the cashier lifted himself tip from his desk, and 
 assumed a sterner expression than before. 
 
 •' No," replied I. " I was not aware of his being 
 in Canada until this moment, neither am I sure of 
 the fact now. But in any case, Mr. Morton could not 
 prevent my drawing the money, which was only 
 transmitted through him as the legal adviser of tho 
 lady who sent me here." 
 
 *' We have nothing to do with the question of who 
 is the owner of the money," replied the cashier, 
 standing up as he spoke, evidently expecting by so 
 doing he would send me away without the trouble 
 of bidding me go. " Mr. Robert Morton is the one 
 who consigned the money to us, and he, in person, 
 gave us orders to pay no more of it away to you ; 
 you ought to be very well pleased at getting so 
 easily otf." As he sx^oke he moved some of the papers 
 lying at one side of his desks «s if searching for 
 something, which having found, he tossed towards 
 me adding : " You know Mr. Robert Morton's writing, 
 I presume." 
 
 I lifted the card, as it fell on the table in front of 
 where I stood, a gentleman's visiting card, on which 
 was written in Mr. Morton's hand, " Robert Morton, 
 "W. S." and in the left corner in small characters, 
 *' From Edinburgh^ A mist swam before my eyes as 
 1 looked. "What could be the meaning of this ? Yet a 
 second more, part of it seemed clear to me, Mr. 
 
39G 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 ! 5 
 
 Itl 
 
 i u 
 
 II 
 
 Morton himself coald explain the rest, and lookinj,^ 
 up from the card which I still held in my hand, 1 
 asked the cashier, who was now busily engaged with 
 the papers on his desk, as he had been when / 
 entered — 
 
 " Will you tell me at what hour Mr. Morton was 
 here yesterday, and also if he left his address in 
 Montreal with you V" 
 
 Mr. Goldenow answered in a short petulant accent, 
 without raising his head, or arresting the motion of 
 his pen for an instant — 
 
 " Between two and three o'clock, — was at the St. 
 Lawrence, — intended to leave by the night train foi- 
 New York."— 
 
 These words were spoken in three sentences with a 
 short pause between each. I knew there was nothing- 
 more to be learned here, and turning round, left the 
 Bank with a perplexed and troubled mind, which a 
 few minutes previously I had entered full of hope 
 and confidence. 
 
 On finding myself in the street, I took my way in 
 the direction of the St. Lawrence Hotel ; it might be 
 possible Mr. Morton was still there. On reaching 
 the Hotel I received exactly the same answer, and 
 from the same person, as had been given me nearly 
 four months previpus when making inquiries for 
 Captain Percy. 
 
 Looking carefully over the name book and finding 
 that neither yesterday nor the day previous had 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 397 
 
 there been any such person as Mr. Robert Morton 
 lit the house, the young man said, looking in my face 
 without rudeness, yet with a certain scrutinizing air, 
 which was anything but agreeable — 
 
 " I think you are the lady who some months ago 
 came after Captain something or another whom you 
 could'nt find either; you're not lucky with your 
 friends." 
 
 I took no notice of his familiarity, but saying that 
 it was possible Mr. Morton might have been in tho 
 house without his name being put in the book, 
 begged of him to ask some of the waiters if they had 
 seen any baggage bearing his name. 
 
 " No, no," replied he, in a careless tone, " he's not 
 here, nor has he been, his baggage or himself either, 
 he's something of the same style as Captain Landless, 
 footless and handless, that you was after in the 
 spring," and turning from me while he spoke, left 
 me pleasantly situated — the centre of a grinning lot 
 of boot-blav.ks and waiters. 
 
 I now made the best of my way to Doctor Balfour's, 
 that I might consult with him w^hat I w^as to do in 
 this emergency, and if possible get him to lend me 
 money to pay the cablegram, which it was so neces- 
 sary should be sent at once ; my evil genius seemed 
 to have been following me all day, and a presentiment 
 that he still tracked my footsteps was on me, as I 
 rang the bell at the Reverend Doctor's door. 
 
 " Is Doctor Balfour in ?" 
 " No, Ma'am." 
 
 HI- ! 
 
 •I 
 
 fi 
 
 i 1 1 
 
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 398 
 
 THE GRAND tlOIlDONS. 
 
 1 ^li 
 
 ■ i 
 
 . I 
 
 ill: 
 
 ■>'■ ■ 
 Is- 
 
 " Will he be in at dinner time ?" asked I, looking- 
 at my watch. It was now nearly noon, and ii" the 
 answer was in the afiirmative I resolved to wait lor 
 him ; I knew the family dined at twelve. 
 
 " No, Ma'am, he wont be in at dinner time, he's 
 gone from home." 
 
 " Ask Mrs. Balfonr if I can see her ?" 
 " Mrs. Balfour has gone w^ith the doctor." 
 
 It was a strange girl w^ho opened the door and 
 answered my questions ; Lizzy, the Irish girl, whose 
 duty I knew it w^as to wait upon the door had l)eon 
 for some time in Doctor Balfour's service, and I 
 doubted not could give me better information ns io 
 when I was likely to see him than this girl, Avho, I 
 knew, was a stranger, and I asked if she would 
 bring Lizzy to speak to me. 
 
 " Lizzy has gone home sick a week ago,*' ropli(>d 
 the girl, " and I am in her place ; it w;is me that 
 opened the door to you yesterday." 
 
 " Do you know when the doctor w^ill be back 
 
 again r 
 
 " No, Ma'am, I dont, but I'll ask the nurse ; perhaps 
 she can tell you." 
 
 Away she w^ent, learing tsk- standing at the dooi* 
 "w^here this colloquy had taken place ; in a second or 
 two, the nurse, a respectable looking middle aged 
 woman, made her appearance, carrying a little fat 
 image of the doctor in her arms ; on seeing who I 
 was, she at once shewed me into the parlor, requesting 
 me to bo seated. 
 
THE GRAND C^01lD()^'^i. 
 
 890 
 
 " Bridget says you wish to know wlien the doctor 
 will be home, Ma'am," she ]K\i»Mn, as soon as I had 
 seated myself. " I cannot tell you, nor does he know 
 himself; Mrs. Balfour's mother is very ill indeed, tho 
 doctor had a tolograni last nii^ht, and Ihis morning- 
 they were olf by the iirst train ; The doctor got th(3 
 promise of another minister to lill the pulpit next 
 Sunday before he went, and if Mrs. Warner is not 
 better or worse, he'll take some further means to put 
 another minister in his place for the t^unday after." 
 
 This was doubtless very interesting* to the nurse, 
 but not to me ; intensely stretched as my mind was 
 in thinking of what concerned mo more nearly, it 
 occurred to me that i)erhaps the nurse might know 
 if Doctor Balfour had seen Mr. Morton if Le really 
 was in Montreal ; I felt sure in default of seeing me 
 he would go to Doctor Balfour, as I had scarcely 
 written a letter since my arrival, without relating 
 some little kindness or attention received from him ; 
 Mr. Goldenow had said Mr. Morton called at my 
 boarding-house the day before yesterday ; that day 
 was the last I spent in St. ^Martin's ; not finding me, 
 it was more than likely he would have gone to see 
 Doctor Balfour on the morrow, and I inquired of the 
 nurse if she was aw^are of a Scottish gentleman 
 having visited her master the previous day, after I 
 left the house. 
 
 " Yes, Ma'am, there was a gentleman from Edin- 
 burgh here yesterday ; the doctor wont to Iho 
 door with him, and after his return I heard him toll 
 
 *.,' 
 
400 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 fit 
 
 i 
 
 f:.- 
 
 Mis. Balfour that he was sorry he could not ask him 
 to tea, and send for you to meet him, but the gentle- 
 man said that he preferred seeinjo;' you at your own 
 boarding place, where he would go to pass the 
 evening with you." 
 
 Here was another revelation regarding Mr, Morton 
 quite as incomprehensible to me as Mr. G oldenow's ; 
 he was aware of my return to town ; Doctor Balfour 
 must have told him of the almost certainty that Mrs. 
 Percy was found ; what could he mean by not coming 
 to see me last night as he told Doctor Balfour he 
 intended to do, and that he did not, I was certain, 
 I was too tired to leave my own room, far less the 
 house, during the whole evening. 
 
 I left Doctor Balfour's house more perplexed than 
 when I entered it, — and what was worse, instead of 
 feeling as I usually did when an emergency occurred, 
 a determination to rise up and help mvself, the only 
 sure way to overcome any difficulty, — I felt helpless 
 and dispirited, looking this way and that for some one 
 to stretch out a strong arm, and lift me out of this 
 Slough of Despond, and set me on the firm dry road 
 
 again. 
 
 I walked on for some distance, uncertain which 
 w^ay to take or how to act ; if I went to the Convent 
 of The Holy Cross, wnere yesterday I had promised 
 to be long ere noon, probably one of the first 
 questions which would be asked me, would be, * if 
 my cable telegram had been sent off?' how my 
 neo-ative answer would make them stare, and h^w 
 was I to account for this seeming negligence ? — by 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 401 
 
 telling a story that made my cheek burn to pain, and 
 my heart flutter uneasily each time I thought of it ? — 
 and which had already thrown a slur ui)on my 
 character, the stain of which I knew not how to 
 remov'3. Oh ! it was too terrible even to allow my 
 own thoughts to dwell upon ; how could I with my 
 own lips retail the scandal to anv:t,her? — I was walk- 
 ing through deep mire which had soiled all my gar- 
 ments, and there was no fuller's soap wherewith to 
 whiten them ; — my whole heart was sick — my whole 
 head sore — and there was no balm in Gilead, no 
 physician there. 
 
 I had not yet learned to " cease from man," and 
 yet, even at that very time, " The Lord Grod JMerciful 
 and Gracious" had sent His Angel to helj^ me. 
 
 I went along purposeless, looking from side to side, 
 and wondering if there was not some deep open 
 door-way where I might sit down and rest in the 
 cool darkness, and then the Angel of the covenant 
 came to me, and said, " What thy hand findeth to 
 do, do it with all thy might. Be not faithless, but 
 believe." 
 
 And my heart answered " Vjven so. Lord ; in Thy 
 strength I will do Thy will." Turning round, I 
 retraced my steps in ihe direction of the Conve- t of 
 The Holy Cross ; as I • 9«red the gate, I saw Sai.''y 
 Mitchell, dressed in •'^hat he called his Sabbath 
 •clollies, walking leisurel/ before, his hands thrust in 
 his pockets and his heaii bent to the ground, as if he 
 
 was counting each, step he took. 
 
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 s 
 
 
 I i-ifej 
 
 J'i\ 
 
if. ;'i 
 
 ii 1 
 
 t I I 
 
 402 
 
 THE GRAND aORDONS. 
 
 ir 
 
 " Sandy," said I, speaking loud enough to attract 
 his attention, and make him turn round, " You seem 
 to have more leisure to-day than you had yesterday."' 
 
 lie turned round, and touching his hat, said, " It's 
 all leisure to-day, mem ; all the work I've do ,ie since 
 live o'clock in the morning is to saw a little wood 
 lor the ladies in there." 
 
 "How is that? Sandy," inquired I, rather anxi- 
 ously ; the lad's former habits making me fear a life 
 of idleness for him now ; " I hope you have not leit 
 your place." 
 
 " Well, mem," replied he, " that question is no 
 easy answered with yes or no ; I have left it and I 
 have not." 
 
 '• If you wish me to understand you, you'll have 
 to explain your meaning more clearly," said I. 
 
 " Well, mem, the long and the short o't is this, that 
 when I went hame last night, I told the gudeman 
 that he would need to look out for anither hiin', at 
 ane o' Lady Gordon's lamily was here, an' needed my 
 service for a while ; I cannot say he was very well 
 pleased, an' he said a good deal about raising my 
 wage if I would bide, but I telled him it was no use ; 
 the money wasna coined yet that could pay me for 
 workin' to him or any other stranger when ane o' the 
 family wanted me, but I said I did not think it would 
 be long till the one I was going to serve would go 
 to Scotland again, and then if he liked I would come 
 back to him rather than go to anither ; so we parted 
 good friends, and I promised to go back to see them 
 
 I 
 
 LiiiL 
 
THE GRAND GOTIDONS. 
 
 403 
 
 ttract 
 sceirt 
 rday."' 
 , " It's 
 » sin CO 
 ( wood 
 
 r anxi- 
 ,r a lite 
 iioi lelt; 
 
 L is no 
 t and I 
 
 ;n liave 
 
 I. 
 
 his, that 
 
 [udeman 
 ban', at 
 ided my 
 
 ery well 
 
 jsing my 
 no vise ■» 
 
 [y me for 
 me o' the 
 it would 
 ould go 
 Id come 
 e parted 
 see them 
 
 when I had an hour to mysel' an' to go hack to bide 
 wi' them all Winter when my time was out here." 
 
 " But, Sandy," said I, in dismay at the position the 
 lad had placed himself in, *' yoi\ cannot live in the 
 Convent ; you surely ought to have understood that, 
 by what the clergyman who spoke to you last night, 
 said." 
 
 " Oh ! I ken all that well enough," replied he, " An' 
 so afore 1 went hame last night, I sought out a lodgiu 
 to mysel, wi' a very civil woman that bides in that 
 •v^ooden house ower bye," pointing as he spoke to a 
 n>"do looking white cottage, not a hundred yards olF. 
 " An she's no charging me ower dear, either, consider- 
 ing the rents they pay here ; I'm only goin' to give 
 her two dollars and a half for board and lodging, an 
 auld Mrs. Campbell wouldna hear to my taking my 
 kist out o' her house, and saving your presence, she's 
 goin' to wash my shirts and mend my stockings." 
 
 *' But, Sandy, where are you to get money to pay 
 ev'en that? you must have sent nearly the whole of 
 your earnings home, from what you yourself told me." 
 
 ".y?, ' ''d not do that, or anything like it; I paid 
 my 'atbci f:»r the money he paid out and for the 
 mjpn t! he sent to the bank, although that's no 
 ^.rawii < T, ^ never needed a bawbee o't; so that's 
 afore me, and mair than that forbye, an' I couldna 
 make a better use o't than pitten it out the way I'm 
 dom'.'" 
 
 " Perhaps not," replied I, " if you were able to 
 see Mrs. Percy, or even get into the Convent ; have 
 yo'.s. thought about that?" 
 
 m 
 
404 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 " Well, I caiina say I thought much about it ; it was 
 all settled very easy in the morning. I'm biding in 
 the convent now, an* I saw Mrs. Percy the day, and 
 got my commands from her." As the lad spoke, his 
 face assumed first an air of importance, and then as 
 he uttered the last sentence, a sad uneasy look 
 replaced the other, his words and manner both 
 exciting my curiosity. 
 
 " Tell me how vou managed that." 
 
 " I didna man! 3 it a+ all ; it was managed for me. 
 "When I came lit ine morning wi' Mrs. Percy's 
 
 parcel, between five a..Z. six, I met the gentleman in 
 the black gown we saw yesterday, a mile above the 
 town, and he commenced speaking to me, and asked 
 me wiiere I was going ; so I let him see the bundle 
 I had for Mrs. Percy, and told him about the lodgins 
 I had gotten, and that I was goin' to bide there for 
 a while just to be about hand when Mrs. Percy 
 wanted me for anything ; so when we came to the 
 gate he rang the boll, an before ye could say Jack 
 Kobison it was opened, jest as there was somebody 
 waitin' at the back o'the door till he rang, and he 
 took me in along wi' him, and said he was goin' to 
 keep service in the chapel an I could come if I liked ; 
 so in I went, an' its a real bonny place, an a little 
 lamp burning no ftir from the pulpit, though it was 
 broad daylight, an it was as full of nuns in their 
 black gowns and white caps as ever it could hold, 
 all on their knees praying before we went in, though 
 ye couldn't hear a word they said ; he signed to me 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 405 
 
 t was 
 
 r, and 
 :e, his 
 len as 
 look 
 • both 
 
 foT me. 
 Percy's 
 man in 
 ove the 
 d asked 
 bundle 
 I lodgins 
 here for 
 Percy 
 lc to the 
 ;ay Jack 
 mebody 
 and he 
 goin' to 
 Hiked; 
 In a little 
 it was 
 in their 
 lid hold, 
 L though 
 led to me 
 
 to lake a seat out bye from the rest, and he prayed 
 awhile, an' I'm thinking sang very quiet-like some 
 o'the psalms, or maybe it was hymns, but I couldna 
 make head or tail of what he said, so I just took out 
 my catechism that always lies in the pocket of my 
 Sabbath coat, and I got " Effectual Calling," a thing I 
 never could do all my life before/' 
 
 " He put on a white robe in a little side, room before 
 he began, so I waited after the nuns went all out, 
 marchin' two an two like sodgers, till he put on his 
 every day clothes, and came out, and then I followed 
 him, and he told me that if I liked to help the old 
 gardener in the garden, and whiles cut some wood, 
 I could bide there till Mrs. Percy was better and 
 able to go away, and the nuns would pay me lor my 
 work what they thought it was w^orth when I was 
 going away ; I was real glad, so it was all settled in 
 a minute, the priest told me I w^as to go out to my 
 dinner with the old man at twelve o'clock and come 
 back before one, so I'm just waiting for the old man 
 to go in again to my work." 
 
 *' I'm thinking they've lost some o' their ban's, for 
 yon potterin about old body of a man that they have, 
 could never keep the garden in the order its in ; I 
 would do more work in a day than he would do in 
 a week." 
 
 " You said you saw Mrs. Percy, how is she to-day ?" 
 
 " Oh ! deed, mem, she's very poorly," replied he, 
 looking very grave as he spoke. 
 
 " You said she wanted you to do something, what 
 was it ?" 
 
 
 I 
 
 Hi 
 11 
 
 
 ^:l 
 
 
 
 4: 
 
 HI 
 
406 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 » 
 
 I I 
 
 :] ' 
 
 " Well, mem, it wont give you much pleasure to 
 hear that," said he, and as he spoke, his forehead 
 ilushed red, with a painful expression of sadness 
 round his compressed mouth. " She just said quiet 
 like as giii she wad like to hide it fae the folk roun 
 about, ' go out to the needle rock, Sandy, and bring 
 me some dulse.' " 
 
 The poor lad heaved a deep sigh as he concluded 
 the sentence he had spoken almost in a whisper. 
 
 " Where is the needle rock, Sandy ?" inquired I, 
 " or is it any where ? is there such a place ?" 
 
 " Oh ! aye, t«^ be sure there is," said the lad, looking 
 at me in surprise, as I asked the question. " The 
 needle rock is } m ^^i^- rock with a hole through the 
 top o't out a bit from the shore at Rockgirtisle Castle. 
 Many a day I've gathered dulse about its foot when 
 the tide was back, an many a day she sent me for 
 them when I was a laddie, wading out among the 
 rocks wi my bare feet an' my trousers rolled up, I 
 wish that she was there the day, she w^ould grow 
 sooner well there, than up in yon big room wi' so 
 many sick folk roun' about her." 
 
 Sandy Mitchell's conclusion was a right one, and 
 his words fell on my heart as if they had been 
 edged with a sharp steel point, while I thought how 
 long it would be, ere those who should take her 
 home, or at least remove her from that crowded room, 
 with its sick beds, could come to her assistance. 
 
 Almost as Sandy ceased speaking, the old gardener 
 made his appearance, and in a few minutes we were 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 407 
 
 •all three within the precincts of the court yard, with 
 its broad squares of closely shaven grass, through 
 which a second time the white clover was putting 
 forth its fragrant blossoms and shamrock-shaped 
 velvety leaves. I asked for the prioress, as she had 
 desired me to do, and in a few minutes I was joined 
 by her in the reception room. 
 
 " I fear," said she on entering. " your friend is 
 somewhat worse to-day ; perhaps the excitement of 
 yesterday was too much for her ; I will send Sister 
 St. Nativity to speak with you. Our Mother Greneral 
 visits us this afternoon, and I have a world of 
 preparation to make before her arrival." 
 
 She was gone from the room as the sound of her 
 words yet lingered in my ears, but I hi.a not long to 
 wait for Sister St. Nativity, who reiterated what the 
 prioress had said with regard to Mrs. Percy being 
 worse, at same time adding — 
 
 " I do not know that she is any worse than she 
 was yesterday morning, but she was so collected, 
 and moved herself so strongly when she was speaking 
 to the young man, that I felt disappointed when I 
 found she had fallen into the old lethargic state this 
 morning ; however between nine and ten o'clock she 
 seemed better, and asked for the young man by his 
 name ; I had him brought up to her, and she said 
 something to him which he evidently understood and 
 indeed answered." 
 
 I asked if I might see her ? " You may," replied 
 the nun, " but you must just stand as you did 
 
 ; ;lf||! 
 
 n^tllB 
 
 I'M 
 
 ,..iM 
 
 -^ 
 
 M 
 
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 -fM 
 
 
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 i 
 
 
 408 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 yesterday so as not to be seen ; she must be kept as- 
 quiet as possible ; if my advice had been taken, she 
 would not have been subjected to the excitement ot 
 yesterday, but the doctor who was here while you 
 were gone, thought it might rouse her from her 
 stupor and tend to her recovery ; however, you see- 
 how it has turned out," 
 
 I fancied the nun talked as if she felt a degree of 
 satisfaction in her own prognostics being fulfilled :. 
 human nature is the same in every phase of life, and 
 I supi)ose nuns have their weaknesses as well as our 
 hired nurses at home, any one of whom, I know would 
 be highly offended should her skill in deciding what, 
 w^as the best for her patient be doubted. 
 
 I followed the nun upstairs and stood looking on. 
 Mrs. Percy's pale face at least ten minutes ; in all 
 that time she scarcely moved a muscle. Sister St. 
 Nativity asked her if she would have a drink, she 
 moved the hand which lay outside the quilt a little 
 backward to indicate she would not, neither attempt- 
 ing to open her eyelids nor her lips ; looking at the 
 pale lips and white face from which every trace of 
 blood seemed to have gone, lying without motion or 
 apparent breath, I could not hide from myself the 
 truth so forced upon me, that no cable could ever 
 bring those who loved her soon enough from distant 
 Europe to close her dying eyes. 
 
 Descending from the dormitory, I expressed my 
 thoughts in words to the nun ; she shook her head 
 slowly in answer, whether deprecatingly or other- 
 wise I was at a loss to understand. 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 409 
 
 I went home sad and dispirited, ready to exclaim 
 " all these things are against me." llobert Morton had 
 been among the first to counsel me to the perform- 
 ance of the pledge I had given to Lady Gordon, yet 
 now what does he do? without any warning ho 
 comes out to Montreal, and by his actions cripples 
 me in the work I was sent to do, and by his word?,, 
 causes me to be looked on with suspicion by at least 
 one of the few I had any intercourse with. 
 
 Mrs. Dunbar and her boarders were at dinner 
 when I returned to what I called my home. I could 
 not have eaten had the dinner consisted of nectar 
 instead of the roast mutton to-day and boiled mutton 
 to-morrow, on which the changes were always 
 rung at Mrs. Dunbar's ; I waited in my own room 
 until dinner was over, and the boarders gone to 
 their various employments, and then going to the 
 dining room where I was sure to find my landlady, 
 reposing as was her wont, on the hair cloth sofa, after 
 the toils of the day, I at once entered on my 
 subject ; well may I call it so, I had thought of 
 nothing else since first I heard of it. 
 
 " Mrs. Dunbar, can you tell me if a gentleman from 
 Scotland called for me the day before yesterday or 
 even yesterday ?" this in an anxious voice. 
 
 " No, indeed ; I never heard of any one calling for 
 you, but we'll ring for Jenny and see." 
 
 Suiting the action to the w^ord, she was already 
 engaged in summoning her factotum. 
 
 " Jenny, did a gentleman call for Miss St. Clare, & 
 
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ri 
 
 
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 ! ' 
 
 .1 i ' 
 
 V. ! 
 
 lif 
 
 410 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS 
 
 gentleman from Scotland, yesterday or the day 
 before ?" 
 
 •'No Mem, th^^re was no gentleman or lady either 
 called for Miss St Clare, that I know of, unless your- 
 self or one of the young ladies opened the door." 
 
 " Good gracious ! Jenny," exclaimed Mrs. Dunbar, 
 starting up from her recumbent position, " What put's 
 such nonsense as that in your head ? did'nt I tell you 
 the first day you entered the house, that answering 
 the door was a thing would never be done for you '^ 
 I might as well keep a boarding house at once, as go 
 and answer the door, or allow my children do it; 
 you know well enough its clean against all rules in 
 this house ; of course I may take the bread from the 
 baker or the milk from the milk-man on a washing 
 day, but as for me answering the door to a gentle- 
 man's rap, I would just as soon put a white printed 
 paper in the window, with " Private Boarding" on 
 it ; no, no, its out of the question altogether." 
 
 The lady's indignation was roused to a pitch I had 
 never seen it, although I knew she was very touchy 
 on what she considered points of etiquette, that I, in 
 my ignorance looked upon as being of no con- 
 sequence whatever. Jenny saw the error she had 
 committed, and repeated once or twice in a half 
 indignant tone — 
 
 " No, Mem, i/ou never go to the door, to be sure 
 you dont ; it's not your place ; what for would you 
 go to the door ? it's not your place, did'nt you give 
 me a nice black apron to put on when I went to the 
 door r 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 411 
 
 », 
 
 " Of course I did, Jenny," said her mistress, a good 
 deal mollified by the words and manner of the girl. 
 *' Aiid I paid two shillings the yard for it, although 
 they were selling oft" cheap at Norfolk and Standish's 
 when I bought it." 
 
 The little excitement had now passed, and glad to 
 be able to make myself heard again, I said — 
 
 " But, Jenny, perhaps you may have forgotten, 
 because you know 1 was not at home the day before 
 yesterday ; I had not returned from Isle Jesus." 
 
 " I know very well you wasn't at home, but it's 
 not so long ago, I couldn't forget so soon." The girl 
 spoke as if she was a little nettled at my persistency, 
 and seeing this, I said, looking and speaking as con- 
 ciliatory as possible — 
 
 " That is true, Jenny ; it is only so to speak a few 
 hours, bvit still we often forget by evening what we 
 do in the morning, and I was told to-day at the 
 Scottish Mining Company's Bank, by Mr Goldenow, 
 the cashier, that a gentleman from Edinbu.rgh, in 
 ^Scotland, told him he called here when I was out 
 and I wished to ask you how he looked ? if he was 
 a fair man or dark ?" 
 
 " He was neither fair nor dark for me, for I never 
 saw him," said the girl, her temper fairly roused by 
 so much questioning on a matter which must have 
 appeared to her of so little consequence ; " and fo" 
 that, I've never seen anybody come after you, gentle 
 or simple, since ever you first entered the house." 
 
 The girl spoke only the simple truth, but her 
 
412 
 
 THE OUANU UOiJDONS. 
 
 H 
 
 I I 
 
 II 
 
 wonls gniloil luirKhly on my our, and ^avo mo a 
 choking scnNatiou ; 1 had novor realized until iho 
 fact was pointed out to mo by this tiinii)lo '•irl, iliul 
 in all this ^roat city, with its ono hundred and thirly 
 thousand inhabihints, I was so solitary, that I had no 
 ri«>;ht to expect a visit from any ono of them. 
 
 The lesson thus set mo has done me j?ood, in all 
 my after life ; I have never lu^glected an opportunity 
 to entertain strangers, and a most blessed exorcibe 
 has it been lor my own soul. 
 
 t 
 
 : I i 
 
 lU) 
 
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 fllM 
 
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 Y<—-;^^i^^m 
 
mo a 
 
 il tho 
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 ill alt 
 
 tnnity 
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 «i»;3>-* 
 
 H>"h'^ -'if' 
 
 ■^.; 
 
 jJ^" 
 
 ciiAPTRu xvirr. 
 
 NOW soujrht my own room, and omployod my- 
 Roll'in writinjij'lo Scotland, to undo il poHHi})lo tho 
 "•^ evil Mr. Morton had dono. I wroto to (Irandpapa, 
 roqucHiinu^ him to draw ono liundrcjd poundH of J^ady 
 (lordon's h\u^acy, (which I liad transmitted to him 
 to ])<> placod in tho ]{aidt ol'Scothind, that tho intnroHt 
 of it mii»ht accumulato, and whon I returned homo 
 il would holi^ to make our housekecp' ig on a littlo 
 more liberal scale), and send it to mo with all possible 
 speed, throu|j;h tho Bank of Montreal, warning him 
 io carefully avoid sending it through the Scottish 
 Mining Company's Bank. 
 
 Having done this I breathed more freely ; I now 
 felt secure that if the Mercil'ul Lord were pleased to 
 send health and life to the poor afflicted ono now 
 lying in the Hospital of the Holy Cross, and that 
 Captain Percy could be kept in ignorance of her 
 whereabouts, or held at bay until wind and tide 
 brought this money " Irom Scotland o'er the sea," I 
 would have sufficient funds to bring her home, should 
 there arrive never a penny more Ironi Edinburgh. 
 
 I then sat down to write to Marion, although I 
 nev'^r wrote a letter which seemed to be such a 
 
 
li ¥■ 
 
 'i'J 
 
 1 
 
 m 
 
 414 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 task ; since the information obtained in the morning, 
 I had Vjecome of Mrs. Dunbar's opinion that Jenny 
 had miscounted the letters given her by the Postman. 
 On his daily visits to the house, that functionary 
 generally spent a few minutes in pleasant badinage 
 with Jenny, while she, on her part, had always 
 a blithe look on her pretty face, while hurrying 
 upstairs from her basement kitchen to answer the 
 imperative and well known rap of the black-eyed 
 postman ; during the whole summer every British 
 Mail having brought me four letters, was it any 
 wonder, with their preconceived ideas, that in the 
 midst of their agreeable chat, both Jenny and the 
 postman should hare come to the same conclusion, 
 namely, that the usual number of British letters had 
 arrived. No, I felt convinced, the more strongly the 
 more I thought the subject over, that whatever 
 motive had prompted Mr. Morton to come to Mon- 
 treal, and put a stop to my drawing the money sent 
 to Canada expressly for my use, that moti\ e had also 
 l>re vented Marion from writing her usual weekly 
 letter. 
 
 Were it not that I had such good news to tell, I 
 would not have written to Marion until the first brush 
 of uneasy feeling Mr. Morton's conduct had given 
 rise to, had passed away ; as it \ras, I would have 
 counted it sin to have withheld from her relatives 
 one hour, the good news, that l^largaret Gordon, the 
 loved of all, whom they had mourned so long as an 
 inhabitant of the grave, was yet alive, and with 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 415 
 
 'V 
 
 God's help, might yet go to live among them in her 
 Scottish home. 
 
 I wrote two letters, one to Marion and one to Mr- 
 Seaton of Thurlow, couched nearly in the same terms ; 
 to both I gave a full description of the finding of Mrs. 
 Percy and her present state ; of my having puid over 
 forty dollars to the Prioress to prevent her being 
 considered for one hour in the light of a pauper, and 
 having stated every particular, down to the request 
 she had made of Sandy Mitchell in the morning, to 
 bring her some dulse, and of his having taken up his 
 abode in a cottage near the Convent, that he might 
 be near and serve her, I lastly told of Mr. Morton's 
 visit to Montreal and its consequences, finishing my 
 letter by repeating every word which the priest had 
 said of the necessity there was for removing Mrs. 
 Percy as quickly as possible from the convent, and 
 that no one but a relative, could by law do this in 
 her present state ; that any day her husband might 
 come to claim her. 
 
 On finishing my letters, I quickly obeyed the sum* 
 mons sent me to appear at the tea-table, my appetite 
 having been sharpened by my long fast. 
 
 As I seated myself, I observed yet another boarder 
 had been added to the household, in the person of a 
 fellow clerk of the tall chemist, who also being a 
 wit, made quite an agreeable addition, their witticisms 
 always taking the pleasant side. 
 
 If one might judge by the study the tall chemist 
 Mr. Clement made of Miss Medora's looks during the 
 
 ii 
 
 
 ^i 
 
 -Hi 
 
 i ■ ' 
 
 M 
 
 um 
 
 it, 
 
 VlJ. 
 
 '?-! 
 

 416 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 repast, and the attentions he paid her, he was now 
 deep in love with that young lady, and I saw that 
 both he and his friend had a standing joke, in com- 
 mon with Miss Medora, that seemed to afford them 
 infinite amusement, and which the other members 
 of the family evidently could neither understand nor 
 «hare; it >fv^as in practice certainly simple enough 
 ^nd yet it had been persisted in for full three weeks, 
 without any success being attained in attempting < > 
 «olve it. 
 
 The tall chemist, or his friend Mr Joiner, would, 
 with mock serious face, ask one another or Miss 
 Medora : " Will you have the goodness to tell me 
 what is the name of the lady in black ?" 
 
 This question was sure to be succeeded by shouts 
 of laughter from the young men, even the generally 
 quiet Miss Medora being obliged to have recourse to 
 her handkerchief 
 
 On the evening referred to, the question causing 
 so much amusement, was asked no less than three 
 times, a strong emphasis being always placed on the 
 second word " yow," occasioning the mirth at last to 
 become " fast and furious," exciting the anger of the 
 good lady at the head of the table to such a degree, 
 th at at last she threatened to send Miss Medora from 
 the table, if it was not discontinued. 
 
 Shortly after this admonition, the chemist rose 
 from table, excusing himself by saying that his " time 
 was up," and in passing Miss Medora's chair, took au 
 
THE GKAND GORDONS. 
 
 417 
 
 now 
 
 that 
 
 com- 
 
 them 
 
 □abers 
 
 id nor 
 
 lOUgh 
 
 veeks, 
 
 ing * " 
 
 pvronld, 
 r Miss 
 ell me 
 
 shouts 
 nerally 
 urse to 
 
 lausing 
 
 li three 
 
 oil the 
 
 last to 
 
 of the 
 Idegree, 
 
 ■a from 
 
 1st rose 
 " time 
 Itook ail 
 
 opportunity of asking in a low tone, so as only to be 
 heard by herself and me, who sat next her — 
 
 *• Will you have the goodness to tell me the name 
 of the lady in black ?" 
 
 Poor Miss Medora's face became almost purple, in 
 vain efforts to suppress laughter which would not 
 be suppressed, while her Mamma half rose from her 
 seat, tea-pot in hand, as if she had some intention of 
 throwing it at the head of the tall figure disappear- 
 ing in the door-way. 
 
 After tea, I asked Miss Sophy to accompany me 
 to the Post Office, as on my return, the evenings 
 were now so short, it would be quite dark, and the 
 young lady having signified her willingness to do so, 
 I sought my own room, that I might put on my 
 bonnet and shawl, and wait until she had arrayed 
 herself in her most killing costume, an operation, 
 which I knew from experience, was necessary every 
 time she visited Great St. James street. 
 
 I had scarcely completed my out door toilet, when 
 Mrs Dunbar entered my room, at once seating herself 
 as if preparing for a long chat. 
 
 •' I just came up to help to pass the time till Sophy 
 
 gets ready," began the good lady. " She has a little 
 
 bit lace to sew on the cuffs of her purple dross, so 
 
 that '11 take a minute or two, and I thought in the 
 
 meantime I would kill two birds with one stone, see 
 
 if Jenny has made your room all right and tight for 
 
 the night, and help to keep you from being 
 
 lonesome." 
 
 B2 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
fr 
 
 418 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 ii. 
 
 i Ji 
 
 I thanked the lady for her thoiightfulness, and 
 seated myself with my tatting shuttle in expectation 
 of soon hearing what really brought her to my room. 
 
 " I suppose one of your letters is to the gentleman 
 you thought would have called upon you yesterday,"^ 
 was the first essay in breaking the ice. 
 
 " No," said I, " I do not know his address." 
 
 " Indeed, then, it's just as well you dont," was the- 
 response, with a little indignant toss of the head. " I 
 would be very sorry to look over my shoulder at 
 him ; there's no use running after lads in Canada ;. 
 they're too plenty." 
 
 I was considering whether it was worth while 
 taking the trouble to undeceive her in the idea she 
 had formed of the visitor I had been so disappointed 
 in not seeing, being what she termed a lad of mine^ 
 when she interrupted my cogitations by again resum- 
 ing the thread of her discourse. 
 
 " No, no, there's no use crying over spilt milk ; 
 you '11 get a better, not throwing a snowball at him 
 who I know nothing about, as I never saw him, nor 
 ever heard of him till this forenoon, but I can as 
 easy see through a millstone as a miller, and any 
 man that could say to another he had been to see a 
 young lady that he never came near, is not worth 
 three skips of a grasshopper, and that's the plain truth." 
 
 My dilemma was even greater now than at the 
 conclusion of her first observation, and hopeless of 
 my ability to convince her she was in error, I took 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 419 
 
 and 
 fttion 
 •oom. 
 
 eman 
 :dayr 
 
 as the- 
 id. " I 
 der at 
 iuada r 
 
 . while 
 lea she 
 [)oiiited 
 
 ' miner 
 resum- 
 
 ]t milk ; 
 
 at him 
 
 lim, nor 
 
 can as 
 
 ind any 
 
 jto see a 
 
 |t worth 
 
 truth." 
 
 at the 
 >eles8 of 
 [r, I took 
 
 refuge in silence, as most people of undemonstrative 
 natures would have done in like circumstances. 
 Encouraged by my silence, which probably was 
 construed into acquiescence, she continued — 
 
 " No, as I said before, there's no need for running 
 after lads here ; ye'U get two when you're only 
 wanting one, and you couldn't be in a better place 
 than this very house for a chance of getting 
 acquainted with marriageable gentlemen ; there's 
 Medora that's engaged to Mr. Clement, and to be 
 married at the New Year, the only son of a rich 
 father, has two beautiful farms, and neither chick 
 nor child but him, and all delighted with Medora. 
 Mrs. Clement came in and stayed two days last week 
 with us, and bought as much clothes out of Ilewit 
 and Simpson's as would almost frighten you, and 
 would take no denial, but have both the girls to go 
 out with Mr. Clement when he gets his holidays ; 
 his father's going to put him into a store of his own 
 in the Spring, and he's to furnish these two rooms," 
 passing her hand before where she sat as if to 
 indicate the rooms in front of the house, •' as a 
 parlor and bed-room for the young people until they 
 take up house, so I think her bread is baked at any 
 rate." 
 
 She must have observed that my face expressed 
 less surprise than consternation, which I really felt 
 at the idea of the woman allowing her child to be 
 engaged on such short notice to a man I supposed they 
 had not previously known, and she quickly added — 
 
 \m 
 
 >■ ill 
 
420 
 
 THE OR.VNU (lorinoxs. 
 
 \ i 
 
 1 . 
 
 ! . . - 
 
 
 " Of couvRO Mr. Clpmont has boon sparkinj»' 
 Modora for more than two yoars, ])nt it novor seemed 
 like to (jome to anything, and indeed just before he 
 came to ask me to let him board in the house, I was 
 thinking to ioU him to pass his {Sunday evenings 
 somewhere else, for 1 knew he w^as keeping back 
 another that was very fond of Modora, but not such 
 a good match as Mr. Clement, so it was just as well 
 I didn't do it. " Them that ])idos well betides w^ell." 
 There's no use being too rash, ye always knock your 
 head when ye jump in ihe dark; and it shewed his 
 sense to do as he has done ; he told mo when he 
 came to ask my consent that he had got better 
 insight to Medora's character in the few weeks he 
 was sleeping and rising in the same house with her, 
 than he had done in all the two years before ; and 
 there's another thing that between you and me I 
 think hurried it on, — after he came to the house he 
 couldn't but see that Mr. Mark Redtape was looking 
 very sweet upon Medora (Mr. Mark Redtape was 
 the elder of the brother lawyers) so naturally he 
 didn't like that." 
 
 She now looked up to receive my congratulations, 
 wliich 1 gave very heartily, expressing my hopes 
 that Miss Dunbar would soon follow in her sister's 
 ■wake. 
 
 " That she w^ill," was the mother's reply, with a 
 smiling nod of the head two or three times repeated. 
 " But if she did'nt, Sophy has a pretty face* and 
 plenty of time to wait • it's not about Sophy I was 
 
 lJI 
 
i\ 
 
 THE GRAND (iOHDONS. 
 
 421 
 
 !| 
 
 going to spoak, but a])out yoursolf ; why dont you 
 sot your cap at 8om« of tho geutlomen ? thore's Mr. 
 Mark Ivcdtapi^ a l.irst rai(^ lawyer, doing well — thoy 
 say he'll bo one ol* the })ig bugs some day, and that 
 not very i'ar oil', and his clients all oi' the gentle sort; 
 he'll take non(; ol' your rilF rail" low cases, where you 
 have to put your conscience in your pocket, and try 
 to niak(; out a rogue to be an honest man." 
 
 "I do not think," n^plied I, "there would any 
 gr)od result from my setting my cap for Mr. lledtape ; 
 the prtnlilection he shewed in favour of your pretty 
 daughter is evidence of his love of beauty; rest 
 assured my homely face would have no chance with 
 him, besides you know I told you more than once, I 
 have uo wish to make a home for myself in Canada, 
 so I had better lay aside all matrimonial speculations 
 until I sec bonny Scotland again." 
 
 " Well," said the good lady, with a cheery look, as 
 if a bright thought had just struck her, "I've two 
 strings to my bow for you, there's Mr. Denham, once 
 he'll get a living you couldn't have a better, and 
 deed it w^ould be a finxther in your cap to take him 
 from all the young ladies that's making book-marks 
 and slippers to him without end ; there's three pair 
 of worsted slippers lying in his drawer, and he hadn't 
 one of them when he came here, but just the black 
 leather pair that he wears at breakfast, and for book- 
 marks, there's not a week passes without one or two 
 new ones in his room bible, and you know very well 
 how old and young flock to hear him preach, the 
 
 Ij 
 
 i-f 
 
 HI 
 
 \k 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 -ti 
 
'i!' .'«• 
 
 422 
 
 THE GRAND QORPONS. 
 
 11''! m 
 
 J. •. 
 
 church is sure to be full to the door that he preaches 
 in, every one says he would get a call to our church 
 if anything happened to the doctor, deed he's just 
 the very man, going back to Scotland too as well as 
 yourself Oh !" continued she, with a sly smile, and 
 a little slow nod, " I've hit the right nail on the head 
 at last ; you're wiser than I thought you was ; if I 
 was'nt half blind I might have seen there was 
 something in the wind when he went to the expense 
 of a carriage from a livery stable to take you to St. 
 Martin's, although that was an unfortunate affair, 
 but it wasn'nt his fault, and bringing you home from 
 church every dark Sunday night, and hadn't you 
 him all to yoursell coming across the ocean ; its the 
 old story yet, 'the still sow drinks up the draf ; — 
 your face betrays your secret, but its safe enough 
 wiili me, and may be I'll put in a good word, and give 
 a helloing hand to the courtship." 
 
 My face might well betray me, if being hot and 
 scarlet up to the roots of my hair would do so, I do 
 not think I ever felt half so angry or indignant in 
 all my life before ; my tongue was parched with 
 anger and clove to the roof of my mouth ; my very 
 eyes seemed to be on lire, at last I found composure 
 enough to speak what I hoped would be words of 
 truth and soberness. 
 
 •' Mrs. Dunbar," I began, my words almost choking 
 me as I spoke, " you have never in all your life made 
 a greater mistake than in coupling Mr. Denham's 
 name and mine as you have done ; the little attention 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 423 
 
 which Mr. Denham has paid me, has arisen solely 
 from a desire on his part to shew kindness to one, 
 who in the midst of this crowded city, is solitary and 
 alone, and as to our acquaintance on board ship it 
 extended no further than good morning or good 
 evening ; from the fact of his seldom drinking tea in 
 your house except on Sabbath evening, you must 
 be aware he has ample opportunities of becoming 
 acquainted with beautiful and highly educated girls, 
 such as I cannot pretend to compare with, younger 
 than myself, the children of wealthy parents, having 
 every advantage, while I with a plain face and no 
 accomplishments, am obliged to work not only for 
 my own bread, but for that of a younger sister ; is it 
 at all likely that a handsome and talented man, such 
 as Mr. Denham, would for an instant entertain such 
 an idea ?" 
 
 " As to my own feelings with regard to the gentle- 
 man, the utmost limit has been admiration for his 
 eloquence, one which by your own account, is shared 
 in by hundreds of others ; now Mrs. Dunbar should 
 I ever hear this subject alluded to again, I will 
 receive it as an intimation that you desire my absence 
 from your house, and will take my departure within 
 the hour, even if I have to seek a lodging in an hotel, 
 until I can again procure board in a private family." 
 
 Mrs. Dunbar's face (during the time I was speak- 
 ing, in what I daresay betrayed a very excited and 
 angry mood, notwithstanding my desire and attempts 
 to appear cool and composed), passed through the 
 
 
 ■ 'mm 
 
|"l VTW 
 
 424 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 Mi 
 
 U 
 
 different variations of surprise, consternation and 
 dismay ; she had just commenced iii a sort of apolo- 
 gizing]^ strain. " Good gracious, pity mo, what is the 
 use of all this about a joke ^ " when, fortunately for 
 us both, her daughter made her appearance, in full 
 blow of flowers and gauze around her head, llounces 
 and fringe on her dress, to accompany me through 
 the gas-lighted streets to the post olHce, looking so 
 pretty and pleased with herself, that had my temper 
 not been as sour as vinegar, the very sight of 
 happiness like hers would have put me in good 
 humour ; as it was I felt provoked that Miss Dunbar 
 should have dressed so gaily for an evening walk 
 through such crowded streets, and with dillicuUy 
 restrained myself from making some remark on the 
 unsuitableness of her attire, to the girl who had 
 spent an hour in dressing, to accompany me in a 
 long half dark walk, solely for my convenience. I 
 suppose my good angel was near me and kept my 
 mouth shut. 
 
 "We walked on in perfect silence until we reached 
 the post office, Sophy no doubt thinking of the 
 chance there was of meeting some of her beaux, no 
 great risk of disappointment either with a young 
 lady who some time since assured me she had seven 
 young lovers who regularly sent her hot-house 
 bouquets each New Year's, day and birthday, the 
 said birthday being the twentieth of January, a time 
 when such jpresents cost in Montreal several dollars 
 each. 
 
THE GRAND OORDON!^. 
 
 425 
 
 I read somewhere lately that " the reaboii why 
 youni^ men in the mid(llin«»' rank of life do not 
 marry early now, as their liithers did, waN hecauHe 
 girls require 80 niiieh money spent on tlu^m, })elore a 
 young man can dare to make them an oiler. They 
 must be taken out to drives, i'rec[uent plac(\s of 
 amusement, hav^e trinkels and bou<piels ; this costs a 
 deal of money which the young man lurnishes, and 
 the consequence is he counts his thirty or forty 
 years ere he ever gets ahead enough to marry." 
 
 There is another cause which has an equal, if not 
 more powerful influence in preventing early mar- 
 riages among the middle class of society ; girls are 
 not now disposed as their grandmothers were to 
 marry for love and work for money, or in other 
 words to take their share in doors of the burden 
 which in every case the young man who marries 
 early must be prepared to bear, I mean to be saving 
 and thrifty housewiv<js, each according to the state 
 of life in which it has pleased God to place them. 
 It is the easiest thing in the world to do with less 
 luxury, but it involves a little self-sacrifice and 
 economy, and these virtues are fast coming into 
 disrepute ; I do not mean by this that because a 
 woman cannot have a silk dress or a costly drawing- 
 room to adorn herself with, an^I sit down therein in 
 idleness, she should wear the same faded or grave 
 looking cotton gown from morning until night, or 
 that she should spend her evening hours, and per- 
 force her husband should do the same, in the room 
 
 
1 ' 
 
 426 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 whore she cooks her food, or washes and dresses her 
 children. Far from it, in the poorest household of 
 what may be called the middlinj? classes, there is 
 always a spare room, and it is not necessarily soiled 
 because it is made the place of pleasant resort for the 
 evening hours of the family, where the tired father 
 seeks repose after the labors of the day, his wife 
 wilh smoothly brushed hair and bright cotton dress, 
 (not a whit more expensive than the brown one she 
 wore in the morning), with the addition of her brooch 
 •or a bow of ribbon, seems in his eyes more sweet and 
 beautiful than she was on the day he called her his 
 bride. 
 
 But such a life, although without doubt it has 
 more real happiness in it than any other, is in prospect 
 utterly inadequate to satisfy the ambitious longings 
 of the girls of the present day ; they must dress in 
 silk, and have feathers and flowers in their hats ; 
 they want the finery which must be denied them as 
 the wives of men in moderate circumstances, therefore 
 to satisfy this morbid love of dress, they enter the 
 stores and offices in crowded towns ; they go, plain 
 girls with modest blushing cheeks, it does not take a 
 long residence in a store or office to make them lose 
 the gaucherie of blushing ; they dress finely, it is 
 true, but how sorely do they pay for it, no protecting 
 arm around them, nothing but their own strength 
 and endurance of fatigue, (a fatigue much gron v 
 than most poor men's wives undergo) between 
 and want and woe, and the strong sense oi lis 
 marks their brow with lines of care even before their 
 
THE <mAND OOUDONS. 
 
 427 
 
 youth is ffoiio, thoir hard won wniros is jv.st enonjfh 
 unci no more, to pay lor bread and bny Hn.chcxjMMisivo 
 clothes as the increasing luxury oi' tlie day demands. 
 
 Now, would not these ftirls be far hai>pier as iho 
 wives of farmers, or clerks, or mechanics ? would 
 not one word of ii'enuine love outweiyh all the poor 
 meaningless admiration they sometimes must turn 
 from with loathing" in th(» lonj^* slrui^i^le with labor 
 and temptation ? and how they preserve their int«\i^rity 
 the An^'el of the covenant aloiK^ knovveth. AV^ould 
 not the smile of a little child be a thousand times 
 better, than the bold unlicensed ogle which a girl so 
 situated is subjected to, and cannot resent as her 
 womanly nature would prompt her to do, lest in a 
 second more she should have to listen with quaking 
 heart to the question : " What is the reason Mr. 
 J»atseyes left the store unserved ?" a question the 
 answer to which may cost her her situation. 
 
 Is it not easier to work for one's own husband and 
 children than for strangers ? to feel you are queen 
 in your own home, be it ever such a little one. 
 
 This desire for finery and independence, such as 
 it is, will work woman a deadlier woe than any 
 fetter she has ever worn. "When she steps beyond 
 the fair threshold of womanly power — the home 
 where God has made her supreme, when she forgets 
 or throws from her the commands of St. Paul — the 
 f^xample of Sarah, she most surely lays down a 
 oceptre to lift a sword, the sharp point of which will 
 pierce her own soul. 
 
 ,^ 
 
 M 
 
 -vfl 
 
 JM 
 
428 
 
 THK OUAND (JORDONS. 
 
 ifi 
 
 h' ■ 
 II: : 
 
 It ' 1 
 
 i ! 
 
 I'M 
 
 If s 
 
 y ■ 
 
 I have made a lonu* diiyrossion. While vSophy was 
 perhaps thiiikinti- of her boan, 1 was certainly think- 
 iiicr, not ill sueh a plensnnt way however, of the one 
 her mother evidenlly thoiiuht was my beau, and had 
 taken sueh a diNituree!d)le way to me, and sueh a 
 trouldesome round about way to herseli'ol' linding out. 
 
 What would Mr. Denhmn ihink, I nsked mysell', 
 it' any of this hntel'ul i^-ossi]> should eonie to his ears? 
 How his handsome ])ro\vn eyes would stare, and his 
 finely cut lip turn up with the contempt ho would 
 feel for the homely looking' little dowdy, whom he 
 had first heard of on board ship as " some governess 
 girl," going to seek better payment on the AVestern 
 Continent than her aequirj'uients entiiled her to in 
 educated Europe, who had constnunl the merest 
 commonplace attention into such a love as she 'was 
 never capable oi calling forth! 
 
 Of all contemptible weaknesses to which woman- 
 hood is heir, thut of imagining herself tlie object of 
 love to e\ery man who pays her the civility wo all 
 expect from each other, had always seemed to mc 
 the most puerile and laughable ; such a position I 
 would assuredly occupy in his eyes, should this 
 detestable nonsense of ^Irs. ]lun])ar's ever come 
 "within the hearing of his ear. lie was the only one 
 in Canada who had ever been kind to mo for my 
 own sake; I valueel his friendship, and I respected 
 and esteemed him highly for his work's sake ; I 
 knew him, though a poor man, and on that account 
 obliged to put up all through the hot summer of 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS 
 
 429 
 
 Canada willi tho smallest room in Mrs. I)nii])nr's 
 (lvvollini»-, yet to ])o u^euiTous boyoiid all others in 
 Uie honne vvhoii tho nocdy came in his way ; when 
 ihe poor Irishman wlio cut Iho lire wood in Uio 
 yard of our l)oarding liouse fell from a cart on tlie 
 vvliarf, disabling himself from working for many 
 weeks, I found, from his wife, that Mr. Denham 
 had all the time brought her un\ shillings every 
 Saturday morning ; and when Mrs. l)un]>ar wished 
 to make "a good bargain," as she expressed it, with 
 the washerwoman, he would not listen to such a 
 proposition ; well do I remember the words used 
 by him on the occasion, as repeated to me. " No, 
 no, you must do no such thing ; it is a cruel 
 way of saving, to make either a poor washerwoman 
 or needle-woman help you." His religion, like tSt. 
 Paul's, was not a part of him, but a quality of the 
 whole man, having its life-spring and stream in his 
 own soul, and thus fertilizing tho whole of his being, 
 making his scholarship wiser, his dealings with other 
 men safer, his manhood manlier, his joy more endur- 
 ing, his strength stroiiger. His eloquence, such as I 
 had never heard surpassed, seldom equalled, tho 
 crowds who went to hear the truths he taught, testify- 
 ing to tho ability ho possessed in entrancing his 
 hearers ; at times assuming such authority in deliver- 
 ing Crod's message to guilty man, as to seem a second 
 John the Baptist, crying " Kepent !" 
 
 Such was the man whose friendship I was to lose 
 without my power to help myself, if this stupid 
 woman's tattle, which, for aught I knew^ might be a 
 
 m 
 ■m 
 
 M 
 
I 'I 
 
 
 M 
 
 -b 
 
 iii> 
 
 m 
 
 430 
 
 THE (IRANI) (iOUnoNS. 
 
 suhjoct. (>r convorsiiiioii, and it* ho, niosl coriainly of 
 uuM-rinnMil, witli lu»r hoarcU'i'M, — nIiuiiM cojiie to his 
 knowlodge. 
 
 On fornuM" occasions, wlion by laziiioHs or noi»liij^oiino, 
 my Hritish lottiM's woro loll io Iho last liour, ohliiriuo- 
 mo (o ask Miss iSopliy to aooornpany mo io Iho post 
 ollioo, tlio youni»' lady always look c.aro that our roulo 
 lay along CJvoat St. ,lamos sln>oi, which, wilh its 
 nnmoi'ous siroot lamps and lii»hlod-np shops, was 
 (juilo a gay scono at night, an<l uIum-o Miss Sophy's 
 prolly liitlo chignonod hoad had lull occupation in 
 nodding acknowlodgomonls to Iho <dal)onito bows 
 of hor malo iVionds ; that ovoning, Io my surprise, 
 sho mado no objoclion, whon on reaching Iho lovvor 
 part of Iho town, I took tho way Io tho post ollico ])y 
 Craig street, instead of the more crowded and pleasant 
 one we usually took ; my own mind was troubled 
 and dark ; from morning to night I had had one 
 trouble and disappointment after another, and now 
 !Mrs. Dunbar's ill-timed tattle had put a climax to the 
 whole, adding a spieo of anger, which for the lirst 
 time in my life, I ibund impossible to control. 
 
 When we reached the post oflice, to my surprise 
 Mr. Denham and tho elder Mr. Kedtapo were there, 
 evidently waiting our arrival ; the former took 
 my letters from my hand, and exj^mined them, 
 saying, as ho did so : "I want to see if you. have 
 stamped your letters all right," put them into the post 
 ollice ; ere this was linished. Miss Sophy and M/. 
 Kedtape had gone several yards in the direction of 
 
 iL^ 
 
THE OIIANI) OOIIDONS. 
 
 431 
 
 Notro Damn Hfn'ct, a riilhor round nhout way of 
 r(»aehin«^liorno ; [xTlonMi I liad to lollovv acM^oinpaiiicd 
 by Mr. Dcnharn ; yt'Hl(M<lny I would havo bcini 
 pItMiHod hy liJH cKcorl, ihcu it wuh moHt ma/.-a/mtpos. 
 
 Almost at oncn ho Hiiid, '• Miss St. (/lam, I came 
 horo on purpoKo (o k(m» you ; juNt an I was takin<»; my 
 way to Hpcnd an hour in ono of tho rcadin*^ roorris^ 
 I was met hy Mr. ItiMltajx^, who fold me he wns 
 jToing to the post oHice to 1nk(^ Mins Sophy »nd you 
 homo, and I )L?ladly availed myscH' of Ihe invitation 
 ho ex<end<'(l to nn^ loaijconipany him ; I was anxious 
 to BOO you alone, and thus found an o])portunity 
 sooner Ihan I aniicii)at<»d." 
 
 ; I returned some common plaee answ(^r, wond(;rintr> 
 what he had to nay, and why hi' did not, as ha had 
 once or twice before done, ask to see me in Mrs. 
 Dunbar's parlor. ]le continued — 
 
 " I was in Mr. Gokbuiow's olTiee to-day, while you 
 were there. I hoard what he said a}>out your mon(^y, 
 and from the fact of your wishing- to draw four 
 hundred dollars at once, I am sure the want of it 
 must inconvenience you. I have not the money 
 myself or I would oiler it, ])ut from inquiries I 
 havo made in the course of the day, I lind, if it is 
 necessary, I can obtain it for you. If Doctor Balfour 
 was at homo my interference in your alfairs would 
 be unnecessary, but you are already aware he has 
 left town, and probably will not return until next 
 weeiv, — it is possible not so soon." 
 , The interest he appeared to take in my affairs^ 
 
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 . :t 
 ? 
 
 -1 
 
 432 
 
 THE OIJAND (JOUDONS. 
 
 l)lonso(l and irrilalod ino at llio Knuin iimo, how had 
 ho Ibund out I was at Doolor lUil Tour's? My iirBt 
 impulso was <o roluno liis oH'or ; for my o\vji part I 
 could do witliout mojioy until my p^randlathor 8ent 
 luo my own, but liovv ^vould it bo wilh Mrs. Poroy, 
 •\voro tho Abboss to i»ive ]>orniis.sion J'or mo to remove 
 ]ior io-nun-row ? liow could ihis bo dono? 1 had only 
 fciix or fiovon dollars in silvor, which iortunatoly wore 
 in my drawer at Mr«. Dunbar's ; liad thoy bo(»n in my 
 purse w hon I j^avo iho UKUioy to tho i)rioross I would 
 have most likely given lior all, but lu)w i'ar would 
 this go in providing ibr Mrs, Percy's wanis V All (his 
 passed through my mind in an instant of time, but 
 wilh Ihese ihoughts came others; all my lil'o long 
 the idea of borrowing money, or being indebted lor 
 money to another, had been to me most revolting, 
 and 1 felt, that unless lor Mrs. Percy and in her 
 absolute need, I could by no moans accept of Mr. 
 Denham's oiler. 
 
 " You are kind to think of me and my concerns," 
 replied I. "But I have just mailed a letter to my 
 grandfiither in Scothmd, directing him to send mo 
 the money I failed to obtain Irom the bank to-day ; 
 it will reach Montreal in time to supply my own 
 •wants; if however I should require funds for the 
 business which brought me here, before this money 
 nvrives, I will then accept your oiler, and explain to 
 you for w hat it is required." 
 
 It would ha\ been well for me if I had not been 
 so fastidious, and have borrowed the money offered 
 
TIIK OUAND GORDONS. 
 
 483 
 
 mo ill such good faith, to pay for a cablegram, the 
 want of which throw a shade of doubt on all I had 
 said to the nuns, with whom it now rested whether 
 Mrs. Percy was to bo restored to her friends, or again 
 become the prey of her unprincipled husband. And 
 ihe ^ufTering which streaked my brown hair grey — 
 the halt of it might have been spared had I sent that' 
 -cablegram ! 
 
 ^! 
 
 ji !t 
 
 C2 
 
If; ? 
 
 1 
 
 lit 
 
 II 
 
 
 «S (\^^.^^S^^9>^ 
 
 ?ii«, 
 
 J^^^^-^ 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 \ i 
 
 i; ii! 
 
 HE face that troubled him, would come- 
 ^ between Captain Percy and the daylight all 
 
 his Milking hours, looking at him with its cold 
 blue eyes and serious air, each day adding to the 
 conviction that the one who bore it, knew more of 
 his transactions during the past month, than he cared 
 any mortal should. 
 
 It came in his dreams every night, mocking him 
 with a bitter smile, never uttering a word, but 
 pointing with silent eye and finger to the dead thing 
 hidden under those heaped up unseemly sods in 
 front of the Indian's hut, until it made Tiny rise 
 from thence in her quiet beauty, telling all he had 
 made her do and suffer in the long past, and then 
 the climax came, and he brought her poison from 
 distant Europe. And he hoard her tell w.th quaking 
 heart to crowds of listeners, men and women, that 
 the blue bottle which contained the poison, would 
 be found under the river, near the middle arch of 
 the Lachapelle bridge, and then he would awake 
 with great drops of sweat on his face and brow, his 
 very hair wet, and feel so thankiul when he louud it 
 was but a dream. 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 435 
 
 ))t* 
 
 [ come 
 ight all 
 its cold 
 to the 
 more of 
 ae cared 
 
 ing him 
 ord, but 
 ad thing 
 sods ill 
 iny rise 
 1 he had 
 md then 
 ion from 
 quaking 
 pien, that 
 [U, wonld 
 arch of 
 d awake 
 ,row, his 
 iouiid it 
 
 He had not seen the face for some time, although 
 ho wandered about in the principal streets every 
 daylight hour, in hopes of meeting its owner and 
 tracing her to her home ; a clue to her whereabouts 
 once o])tained, he would trust to his wits and chance, 
 to enable him to rid himself of her, when he had 
 once assured himself she was prying into his concerns. 
 
 It was fully three weeks since he had followed 
 her to Doctor Balfour's house, and he began to 
 entertain hopes that he had been mistaken in the 
 object that brought her to Canada, and she had now 
 left Montreal, lie had not yet received the hundred 
 pounds he expected from his sister ; he could not go 
 without it, and even if it were now in his possession, 
 it would not be wise to do so, while the shadow of a 
 doubt remained what business had brought the 
 spectre of his dreams to Montreal, and whether or 
 not she had left it. 
 
 The great hope of Cai^tain Percy's life centred 
 in the expectation of a legacy of sixteen thousand 
 pounds, which would fall to him on the death of an 
 aunt, and he well knew were the story of his bigamy 
 to go abroad to the world, his name would be instantly 
 scored from her will. 
 
 "While matters were in this state, his friend oi the 
 billiard saloon proposed to him a. jaunt to St. Martin's, 
 to see a cock light which was to take place at eight 
 o'clock next morning. 
 
 This might appear a low amusement for an officer 
 in ller Majesty's service, but it was one for which 
 
t 
 
 I 
 
 t 
 
 I 
 
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 I 'I 
 
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 M 
 
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 ■■I 
 
 430 
 
 THE GRAND OOIIDONS. 
 
 Ctiptaiii Torcy had an oxtromo rolisli ; ho likod to soc 
 iho onrnpfod birds goadod on to oacih other, and 
 onjoyiul the riotous inirtli and low jokes of the men 
 around the cock pit. 
 
 His friend aiul he drove to St. Martin's by the Sault 
 Reconet, and in passing .Toinnette's house, which lay 
 between them aiul the village, Captain Percy, to his 
 horror, saw the face that troubled him, leaning over 
 a book placed on the sill of an open window in 
 .Toinnette's house — in the house of the man ho had 
 tried to bribe, if not to kill, at least to leave Tiny to 
 die ot neglect. 
 
 T'hc pleasures of the cock-pit were over for him, 
 and excusing himself to his friend on the plea of 
 sudden illness, he took his way to the house of the 
 Cure, in hopes to ascertain from him what had 
 brought this woman he so feared to be an inmate of 
 Joinnette's house. 
 
 The Cur6 was in Montreal, and would not return, 
 so the servant said, for two days ; his inquiries at 
 the auberge were equally fruitless, the landlord 
 •only knew that there was a strange lady in Joinnette's 
 house who had broken her arm by a fall from a voitnre 
 in the vicinity, and had been carried in there some 
 weeks before. He thought of the doctor ; he was 
 also from home, had gone to St. Therese to attend a 
 difhcult and dangerous case, and his wife did not 
 know when he would return. 
 
 Captain Percy turned his horse's head at once in 
 the direction of Montreal; he would seek out the 
 
THK GRAND (UUfDuNH. 
 
 407 
 
 . to Boe 
 r, aiul 
 M men 
 
 LC SauU 
 lich lay 
 , to his 
 \\rr over 
 idow in 
 ho had 
 Tiny to 
 
 for him, 
 ) pica of 
 io of the 
 hat had 
 nmate of 
 
 return, 
 [uiries at 
 landlord 
 )innette's 
 
 a voitnre 
 ere some 
 ; he was 
 
 attend a 
 > did not 
 
 it once in 
 out the 
 
 Cur6 by inquiries omon*^ <he other oU^rj^-ymon there, 
 and get him, il' posHihle, to iind out the nddrcHS in 
 Montreal of her who 8o tronbled liim. 
 
 Fortune fnvoured him thin lime: he had scarcely 
 delivered his horwe and' vehicle at the Livery Hta})ie, 
 when he found himHcU' walkini^ alon*^ in the same 
 direction, and a few paces liehind Ihe very Clergy- 
 man whom he had seen ihe lady so intimate with on 
 the day he followed lu^r to Doctor Balfour's house. 
 
 His mind was made up at once; he would follow 
 this man, and endeavour to Iind out from him the 
 particulars which he would now, if he had it, give a 
 thousand pounds to be in possession of; at same time 
 it must be done warily ; he had a fertile imagination, 
 he would be at no loss how to proceed. 
 
 He followed Mr. Denham along nearly the whole 
 length of St. Catherine street, passing the house he 
 himself boarded in, until in the middle of the very 
 next terrace, the reverend gentleman stopped at Mrs. 
 Jjunbar's house, and taking a pass key from his 
 pocket, let himself in. 
 
 The pass key told its own tale ; the house was a 
 boarding house, the reverend gentleman one of the 
 boarders. 
 
 » 
 
 Captain Percy rung the door bell of the adjoining 
 house — 
 
 " Does Mr. Jones live here ?" asked he of the slip- 
 shod damsel who answered the summons. 
 
 " No, Sir." 
 
 '% 
 
i I' 
 
 488 
 
 THK (JUANl) (lOltDONS. 
 
 "Is .Touch tlio iinme oF Iho liuly who livos ii<»xt 
 door r 
 
 '• No, Sir, its Mrs. ])unl>:ir who livoa next <loor, niid 
 sho koops a goiiloul Imiirdiiis? houso." 
 
 This w.'is oxiicUjT wliiii Ciij^tain Porcy wished lo 
 know, nnd he at once took liiniseH'oli'; rini'iniJ!' Mrs. 
 Diin])!ir's door bell and hrinninL** Jenny with her 
 blythe i'lU'.ii to answer his in(|uiries. 
 
 " Is Mrs. Dunbar at home V" 
 
 " Yes, Sir." . 
 
 *' Po you know if she has any vacancy Tor a 
 boarder V" 
 
 •' I dont think it, Sir; you see Mrs. Duid>ar does 
 not keep a l)oarding house only tiikes a lew well 
 recommended boarders in with her own I'amily." 
 
 Captain Percy understood the situation and took 
 his cue therefrom. 
 
 •' Well, I was recommended to Mrs. Dunbar's 
 house by one of the Clergymen in town." 
 
 " Oh ! I daresay," replied Jenny. " It has been 
 Doctor Balfour that sent you; he often si^nds boarders. 
 Mrs. Dunbar and the young ladies sit in his Church." 
 
 " Yes, it was Doctor Balfour," replied the truthful 
 Captain Percy. " Do you know wdiat Mrs. Dunbar 
 charges for board T inquired he, determined to elicit 
 all the information necessary lor his purpose from the 
 girl, vvho seemed quite willing to be communicative. 
 
 " One of the boarders, a lady who has the best 
 room pays seven dollars a week, and she has been 
 
8 liort 
 or, aiul 
 
 iir Mrs. 
 ith ht'i" 
 
 y I'or II 
 
 l)iir (Iocs 
 «»W well 
 
 iiily." 
 and look 
 
 |l)iinbiir's 
 
 as bcon 
 l]K)arclors. 
 Church." 
 
 I truth lul 
 Dunbar 
 
 Id to elicit 
 from Iho 
 Luicative. 
 
 the best 
 has been 
 
 THE ORAND noUDONfl. 
 
 430 
 
 away in the rountry for two or tlireo weoks, and 
 pays her board the Name! all the time." 
 
 " What is the youni^ lady's name Y" 
 
 " Miss St. Clare, i'rom Scotland." 
 
 Captain Percy inwardly conj^ratnlated himHelf; 
 he was sure he had now obtained a part of the 
 information he had been seeking so vainly for months 
 back. 
 
 " Can I see Mrs. l)anl)ar ?" 
 
 " Yes, Sir," said Jenny, usherinj^^ him into thm 
 parlor where that lady was sitting, having been an 
 unseen listener to this conversation with Jenny. 
 
 Mrs. Dunbar regretted she had not a room to spare, 
 the more so as the gentleman was recommended by 
 her pastor. Doctor Balibur. 
 
 " I undersiood," said he, "from your servant, that 
 one of your })oarders is now in the country. I Avill 
 explain to you what I want ; perhaps you can 
 accommodate me by giving me that unoccupied room 
 until early to-morrow morning. 
 
 I come to town every week, and remain from one 
 to four days. 1 have been accustomed hitherto to 
 pay two dollars and a half a day at an Hotel ; if you 
 can make it convenient to accommodate me I will 
 give you the same money. At present I only want 
 the room, as I before observed, until to-morrow 
 
 morning. 
 
 This was too good an opportunity to lose ; the lady 
 at once agreed to giv^ him Miss St. Clare's room now, 
 and by next week to have one prepared for himself. 
 
 4 
 
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 Hi 
 
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 mi 
 
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 I. 
 
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 Si 
 
 440 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 As ho was ushered into Miss St. Clarets room. 
 Captain Percy asked — 
 
 " Does the lady who occupies this room teach the- 
 piano ? I ask the question, because it is necessary 
 for me to live in a house where there is perfect quiet." 
 
 *• No, she does not. Sir ; she seems to me to do little 
 else than amuse herself; she is one of Doctor Balfour's 
 congregation, and the first two or three weeks she 
 was here, he took her round to the Churches and she 
 had a good time jaunting about with the Minister." 
 
 Captain Percy smiled complaisantly, and informing 
 his landlady that he always dined at the St. Lawrence^ 
 bowed her out of the room. 
 
 On her departure, he carefully locked the door^ 
 thanking his stars for the good luck which had pro- 
 bably given him an opportunity of knowing all he 
 desired, without ever speaking a word to the lady, 
 who, if necessary, he would never leave until he 
 had done to death or destruction. 
 
 lie first carefully looked round the room that he 
 might know on what point to commence his search. 
 A box stood on a table placed in the window, which 
 looked very much as if it did duty for both work- 
 box and desk. 
 
 He was right ; the box was locked, but taking from 
 his pocket a bunch of keys, applied first one and then 
 another to the desk side of the box, which at last 
 yielded to his efibrts, displaying the inside well filled 
 "uith letters. 
 
THE GIUND OUllDONS. 
 
 441 
 
 Ho took 1^00(1 note of the way in which thoy woro 
 arrang^ed, that after their perusal, e.ach packet mitrht 
 be put in its own phice, ko as to excite no suspicion 
 that the desk had been tampered with. 
 
 One packet ho observed was in Kobert Morton's 
 handwriting, another by inspection he found to con- 
 tain letters from Marion, lie sat down, and deliber- 
 ately read over tho whole, and to his satisfaction 
 found that up to the date of the last letter, there had 
 been nothing heard or seen of Tiny, although as ho 
 surmised, their contents informed hira Miss 8t. Clare 
 had been sent on purpose to find Mrs. Percy, dead 
 or alive, and from Marion's letters he could gather 
 that she at least expected the living Mrs. Percy to be 
 brought home to Scotland. 
 
 In the afternoon Captain Percy left the house, 
 having finished his labours of reading the letters, 
 dined with his wife a few doors olF, and making an 
 excuse for not returning home that night, made the 
 best of his way to his favourite haunt, the billiard 
 saloon. 
 
 At nine o'clock he again returned to Mrs. Dunbar's, 
 where he was agreeably surprised by finding that in 
 his absence the post-man had left four British letters 
 for Miss St. Clare, one from Mr. Morton, another from 
 Marion, he coolly appropriated the last two, to his own 
 use, first making himself master of their contents, and 
 then crushing them into the pocket of his coat. 
 
 They contained little information further than h© 
 had obtained from the others, except that in Mr. 
 
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 ll 
 
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 ill,' 
 
 i 
 
 if 
 
 442 
 
 THE GRAND OOTIDONS. 
 
 Horton's reforenco was mado io Doctor Halfour, and 
 io iho sum of money placed to Miss St. Clare's credit 
 in the Scotish Mining Company's Bank. 
 
 Next mornini^ he took his departure at an early 
 hour, payini:^ Mrs. ])unl)ar two dollars and a halt', 
 and arraii'.^ini:^ with his well pleased hostess for his 
 future accommodation. 
 
 As early as etiquette would permit, he presented 
 himself at Doctor Balfour's, where, however, he was 
 informed that the Doctor could not see him until 
 after two o'clock. 
 
 On his second visit, he sent in his name as Mr. 
 liobert Morton, from lildinbur^h, and was received 
 by the Doctor in the most friendly manner, and 
 informed by the lievereiul j:^enilenian, that Miss St. 
 C'larehad left the house only a few minutes previous. 
 The residence of an Enylish lady, an invalid, in the 
 Indian's hut, was detailed to Captain l*crcy, and 
 Miss vSt. Clare's suspicion that the same person was 
 now an inmate of one of the Con^^ents in the city, 
 Doctor ])alfour addinjjj' — 
 
 " I cannot tell you the whole particulars, as at the 
 ti^ne of Miss St. Clare's visit, I was in ^ront trouble 
 owing* to the receipt of a letter informing me of the 
 severe illness, perhaps death, of my wife's mother, 
 hence I could only spare a few minutes to hear what 
 Miss St, Clare had to say on this deeply interesting 
 subject, but my own opinion has always been that 
 Mrs. Percy was in life, and I most sincerely hope 
 that tLe lady now under the care of the nuns will 
 
TlIK (JUANl) (SOllDON.S. 
 
 443 
 
 turn out to bo tlio one you tiro ho anxious to 
 Jind." ]Jo(;tor Jisillour ('xcuscd liinisoU I'roui ii nioro 
 lengtheiiod conver.sHtion by .siiyini;- tluit ho and his 
 wile wore just on the ovo ol sotlini»; oil' by train lor 
 Upper Canada, in hopes they woukl be in time to 
 see his molher-in-hi\v er(; her deeease. 
 
 Captain Percy was once more on ihe strec't, alt}ioui»h 
 in a very dillbrent irame ol* mind I'rom that in which 
 he had entered ])octor Ikdl'our's hou.-;. 
 
 lie asked himseli' a score oi times it this story could 
 be even i)roba])ie ; ho had seen with his own eyes 
 the botth) contaiiiini;' the poison in Tiny's hand ; lie 
 had heard her words, ' It is an easy way out oi' all 
 my trouble ;' he had returned in two days to lind the 
 Indian's hut empty and desolate, to iind there a new 
 made grav«', and under the window wliere Tiny 
 used to sit, the? poison bottle lyinif- empty, its cover 
 ojjen, the crystal stopper gone. 
 
 The evidences ol' Tiny's death were all in his favor, 
 yet to make assurance doubly sure, he d«'termined 
 ere the night I'ell, to go to >^t. ^lartin's, and taking a 
 spade and pitchl'oik wiiii him, ascertain wlio was 
 the inmate ol' that rou;^hly nuide grave. 
 
 AVhether Tv\y was in lil'e or not, Miss St. Clare's 
 return to ^Scotland must be prevented at all risks, and 
 Captain I'ercy had more than one plan by which 
 he thought this might l)e ell'ected ; moantime, as a 
 preliminary step he must go to the Ijank, ii' possible 
 possess himseir ol' tlie mont'y sent there by Kobert 
 Morton lor Miss tSt. Clare's use, and it' this could not 
 
 i: 
 
 . I 
 
 ^ It 
 
 ' -f 
 
444 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 he done, at least prevent her obtaming another shiL 
 ling of it. 
 
 On his way to the Bank he purchased some visiting 
 cards, on which he carefully wrote Robert Morton's 
 name, copying his signature as closely as possible 
 (an art in which Captain Percy was an adept) from 
 that on the letter he put in his pocket the previous 
 
 evening. 
 
 Going into the Banlc, he at once, requested to 
 see Mr. Goldenow, to whom he had sent the card 
 bearing Robert Morton's name, and now introduced 
 himself as that gentleman. ' ' 
 
 "Without accusing Miss St. Clare of any particular 
 crime, he gave Mr. Goldenow to understand that she 
 had been spending the money entrusted to her solely 
 to her own use, to the entire neglect of the mission 
 she had been sent to Canada to fulfil. 
 
 He proposed drawing the whole of the money now 
 in Mr. Goldenow's hands, and leaving her for the 
 future to her own resources. Mr. Goldenow informed 
 Captain Percy, as he expected would be the case, that 
 he (Mr. Goldenow) could not make over the sum in 
 question to him without some respectable gentleman 
 in Montreal coming forward to identify him as Robert 
 Morton, offering however to return the sum in ques- 
 tion to the head offico in Edinburgh, or hold it until 
 orders were received from thence, as to how it was 
 to be disposed of. 
 
 Matters being thus amicably arranged, the cashier 
 accompanied Captain Percy to the door of the Bank» 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 445 
 
 ilopply improssod with the kindness of heart the 
 gentlemp.n had shown in not publicly expc/injj Miss 
 fet. Clare, for the way in which she had so shamelessly 
 abused her trust. 
 
 Captain Percy had doiie all it was possible for him to 
 do in Montreal, and was now again on his way to St. 
 Martin's ; if he had known the name ot the c(»nvent 
 ill which the lady supposed to be Tiny, was placed, 
 he would have preferred going there, and asking to 
 see the invalid of the name of Smith, the name which 
 he knew the Indian must have given, but ])octor 
 Lalfcar was unal)le to tell him to what Convent or 
 by what means Miss St. Clare had traced her. 
 
 Montreal is a city of Convents ; with the formalities 
 Tt'^uired on seeking entrance to such it might be a 
 week before he arrived at the one he sought ; this 
 was too long to endure the suspense which now 
 made his heart quail and shiver, and coward as he 
 was, be preferred the terror he knew must be endured 
 in ox)ening that lonely grave in the bush. 
 
 The evening shades were darkening around him 
 as he once more tied his horse within the shadow of 
 the ruined cottage wall, and proceeded on foot through 
 the path to the Indian's hut ; he could see the moon 
 glimmering at times wherever a slight opening oc- 
 curred in the thick pines and cedars of which the 
 bush consisted, and although glad of the light thus 
 aftorded, he thought with horror oi the ghastly face 
 those moonbeams might reveal to him, ere his task 
 Ox the night was completed. 
 
 41H 
 
 ( >■ 
 
 ■i^- -• ;j W 
 
446 
 
 THE GRAND GOTiroXS. 
 
 V ■' 
 
 or 
 
 More than onc^ he stayed his steps, almost deter* 
 nihied to return the way he had come, but a moment's 
 reflection told him that he was on the edge of a pre- 
 cipice, and that the welfare of all his future life 
 depended on his knowing its bearings, seeing and 
 avoiding its dangers. 
 
 As he considered this, he would press on wiih 
 . renewed vigor, carrying the spade and pitchl'ork, 
 which were to aid in the exhumation of the dead. 
 
 He was now in the little clearing on which the 
 Indian's cottage stood, the moon shining down on 
 the unseemly heap, where he hoped to convince him- 
 self his wife's body lay ; he was wearied with his Ion 
 walk through that narrow winding bush path, but 
 he could not trust himself to rest in that eerie spot, 
 where each breath of the wind rustling among the 
 cedars overhead, startled him as if his wife's spirit 
 si)oke to scare his guilty soul. 
 
 Motion was necessary; had he allowed himself a 
 moment's idleness, he knew but too well the coward- 
 liness of his nature would have impelled him to ily 
 from the place ere the work was accomplished he had 
 come so far to perform, and was so necessary to be 
 done. 
 
 lie had already pitched several of the loose clods 
 off the ireap, when an owl hooted almost close above 
 whero he stood ; he started with horror, and throwing 
 down the pitchfork which he held in his hand, was 
 about to betake himself to flight, imagining that the 
 evil one was upon his track ; as he lilted his head. 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 44T 
 
 the moon's rays, shining on the owl, discovered to 
 him the cause of his alarm ; with a muttered oath he 
 threw one of the heavy clods at the bird, and again 
 commenced his work. 
 
 The fsods were gone, nothing but loose earth 
 remained, and this it was difficult to remove, the 
 grave seeming to have been filled with underbrush. 
 He continued his work, exhuming with the fork 
 immense bunches of wuthes until after hours of hard 
 labor, he found that he had been occupying himself 
 in emptying a pit in which the Indian stored the 
 willows with which he made his baskets. 
 
 For the last hour he had been working in the pit, 
 it was at least a foot above his head, and his night of 
 hard labor over, it was only after many fruitless 
 attempts that Bertram Percy succeeded in extricating 
 himself from the willow pit, and setting his foot on 
 the grassy earth. 
 
 Scarcely had he found himself again on the level 
 ground, when a heavy hand was laid roughly on his 
 shoulder, and a voice, speuking to him in Lady 
 Gordon's accents, although with a deeper cadence, 
 called out — 
 
 " You villain, what do you mean by destroying 
 the poor Indian'^? willow pit V" 
 
 Captain Percy looked up to a man upwards of six 
 feet high, whose face bore every lineament of Lady 
 Gordon's, the expres&ion exactly what her's was in 
 anger, one which he might remember well, being 
 the only phase in which he had seen it during all 
 his later interviews. 
 
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 'mm 
 
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 r. ■ t: 
 
448 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 ■f ::■ 
 
 Captain Percy was horror-stricken ; his hair stood 
 on end, whiJo great drops of sweat coursed each 
 other down his face. 
 
 " Do the dead rise ?" he asked himself. " And ii 
 so, has Lady Gordon's spirit put on this great male 
 body that she may crush me to atoms ?" 
 
 Meantime the man in whose grasp he was, gave 
 him several hearty shakes, and then almost lifting 
 him from the ground, pushed him away, muttering 
 -as he did so " Reptile !" an appellation he was aware 
 Lady Gordon had more than once bestowed upon 
 him. 
 
 Ilis terror urged him to flight, which he continued 
 without cessation for the next hour, leaving the tall 
 man and several others gathered aiound the Indian's 
 willow pit. 
 
 *^. 
 
^ 
 
 ^H*^^*»- 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 went regularly every day to the Convent, but 
 saw little or no change in the poor invalid ; 
 four days had elapsed since my return from St. 
 Martin's; while sitting at breakfast, four business 
 "Cards from Moir and Stron^^'s were handed in 
 addressed to Mrs. Dunbar, her two daughters and 
 myself. 
 
 For several days back we had been inundated by 
 ihese missives. Moir and Strong's was one of the 
 principal dry goods shops, and a tempting price 
 affixed to their cambric pocket-handkerchieis made 
 me resolve to pay a visit to their store, in order to 
 iind some I would deem good enough for Mrs. 
 Percy's use, and yet suited to my present slender 
 means. 
 
 Moir and Strong must have been indeed assiduous 
 in advertising their business ; the shop was crowded 
 in every direction, and although the shop walker 
 handed me a seat, it was some time ere I could find 
 any one to attend to my wants. 
 
 At last a young man who was endeavouring to 
 serve one customer with lace, another with ribbons, 
 
 D2 
 
 ' ''Mvi 
 
 
 it^ 
 
 ml 
 
 '■I SI 
 
 ] , m\A, fi 
 
450 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 li ij 
 
 from a box of each material placed close together oit 
 the counter at which I sat, handed me a small box 
 of hemmed cambric handkerchiefs from which to 
 choose ; they were not such as I would purchase for 
 Mrs. Percy, being ornamented with showy looking 
 embroidered flowers and monograms in the corners; 
 and describing to the young man exactly what I 
 wanted, I returned him the box, which was a small 
 paste-board thing I could lift in my hand. 
 
 The boy mounted a step-ladder to bring down 
 another box from a shelf before which he stood ; his 
 lace and ribbon customers had meantime disappeared, 
 but their places were quickly supplied by others 
 clamoring for goods of different descriptions ; it was 
 what is called a cheap sale day, and the clerks seemed 
 to be at their wit's end, in a vain endeavor to satisfy 
 all who came for bargains. I would certainly have 
 taken the first pocket-handkerchiefs offered had not 
 their garish ornaments been such as I knew would 
 offend the taste of the one they were intended for. I 
 had been too well accustomed to the selections made 
 for her, and twice a year sent to India, not to know 
 that those handkerchiefs, with their attempted finery, 
 would be most unsuitable. 
 
 The boy seemed to have a difficulty in finding those 
 I wanted, and while waiting for them I drew amuse- 
 ment from the conversation of a lady and her daughter, 
 who were evidently employed in buying a marriage 
 trousseau for the lattei, at no great distance from 
 where I sat. Both ladies, in their eagerness to be 
 
 :| i 
 
THE URAND LloRDONS. 
 
 4:)1 
 
 understood by each other, talking' in a key rather too 
 loud lor the place they were in. 
 
 All at once I heard the boy on the ladder stutter 
 out in a halt* muilled voice something which wounded 
 in my ears like " stop thief." 
 
 I looked up to the ladder where he stood, and saw 
 a shocking spectacle, the boy evidently in the 
 beginning of an epileptic lit, one hand holding a box 
 of handkerchiefs, while wnth the other he seemed 
 endeavoring to point to some one beyond me. his face 
 distorted, while he tried to mouth out some words 
 that were wholly inarticulate ; a moment more and 
 he would have fallen to the ground, but for the other 
 clerks who came to his rescue as he fell. 
 
 There was quite a hubbub in the store ; every face 
 filled with consternation ; those w^ho had seen the 
 catastrophe trying to tell others what had happened. 
 In the midst of the confusion the shop walker came 
 up to me. and putting his hand on my arm, asked me 
 to step into the office to speak to Mr. Moir. I was 
 rather surprised by the request, and asked the young- 
 man — 
 
 " What can Mr. Moir want with me T' 
 
 " He wishes to speak to you. Miss." 
 
 " If he does," replied I, " he had better come to 
 me; ho can have nothing to say that cannot be as 
 well said here as in his office. ' 
 
 The man stooped down and almost whispered iu 
 my ear. 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 " It will be better for you to come quietly, Miss ; 
 you will not be sufTered to leave the store, and if you 
 «how any resistance, I will have to take you into the 
 office by force." 
 
 I was extremelv indisnant, but as I saw that I did 
 not understand the man's meanin<?, and he possibly 
 mistook me for some one who owed them a large bill» 
 I thoufiht it best to comply with his request, and 
 desired the man to shew me the way to the office 
 that I might follow him. 
 
 " No, ma'am," said he, " you must precede me, or 
 take my arm, whichever you please." 
 
 I gave the man a look which was no doubt filled 
 with indignation as I meant it should be ; he laid his 
 hand on my arm with a firm grasp, and so led me 
 to the office, where I was evidently expected by a 
 middle aged man, whom my conductor called Mr. 
 Moir, saying as he entered — 
 
 " This is the young woman, Sir." 
 
 Mr. Moir looked hard at me, both anger and regret 
 expressed strongly in his face, as he abruptly asked 
 
 " What is your name ?" 
 
 " You have no right to ask my name," replied I, 
 irritated at the authoritative insolent manner in which 
 the man spoke. 
 
 " I am sorry you have given me too good a right to 
 ask your name, and to know it too ; you are a 
 respectable looking young woman, it is a pity you 
 could not obtain a livelihood by less nefarious 
 practices." 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS, 
 
 453 
 
 ly, Miss ; 
 nd if you 
 I into the 
 
 that 1 did 
 3 possibly 
 large bill» 
 ]uest, and 
 the office 
 
 3de me, or 
 
 3ubt filled 
 he laid his 
 so led me 
 ected by a 
 called Mr. 
 
 and regret 
 ptly asked 
 
 replied I, 
 ►r in which 
 
 a right to 
 
 rou are a 
 
 pity yovi 
 
 nefarious 
 
 My blood was boiling; the man had not even asked 
 me to sit down, but kept me standing bel'ore him 
 like a culprit, and I said, speaking as I felt — 
 
 " You are excessively impertinent to speak in 
 that way to one you know nothing of further than 
 that she entered your shop a few minutes ago to 
 make purchases." 
 
 " I know this much of you," replied he, " that you 
 and such as you, are enough to ruin every man in 
 the trade, if your practices cannot be put a stop to ; 
 we will try what we can do in your case at all events." 
 
 As he spoke, one of the shopmen accompanied 
 by a policeman, entered from a door in the rear, 
 communicating with a back street. 
 
 " This is the woman," said Mr. Moir, addressing 
 the policeman, " You had better search at once." 
 
 As he spoke, I must say I felt more at my ease than 
 I had done since my entrance ; I saw that I was 
 mistaken for some one who in the crowd by which 
 I was surrounded, had been detected in helping 
 themselves to some of Mr. Moir's goods, a crime 
 which I had more than once heard commented upon 
 as one very prevalent in Montreal. 
 
 " With your leave, Miss, I will search your pockets." 
 
 "Certainly," said I, taking therefrom my pocket 
 handkerchief in order to facilitate his operations. 
 
 The man put his hand in my pocket, and to my 
 unutterable dismay produced therefrom a roll of blue 
 satin ribbon, one of pink, and one of white, and lastly 
 my purse, pocket-book and thimble. 
 
 
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 " A precious ^ood haul," snid th(3 policeman, " for 
 one day's work." 
 
 " That is not all," said the young- maji who brouirht 
 him in. " the gentleman told me he saw her put some 
 lace under her overskirt." 
 
 " AVell," said the policeman, " 1 suppose there will 
 be no indelicacy in liftini'' the lady's overskirt" doinu 
 so as he spoke, I i'elt him pull something iastened to 
 the gathers of my dress ; in a moment more he handed 
 to Mr. Moir, what seemed to me many yards of costly 
 lace attached to a piece of wire hooked at both ends. 
 
 " That is a new dodge and a clever one" said the 
 policeman. " This empty hook was fastened in her 
 dress^ ihe other one ready for whatever she could 
 cabbage." 
 
 " AVhy," said Mr. Moir, addres.si)ig the shop-man» 
 *' here is the piece of lace we missed two days ago, 
 one of the most costly arti<des in my shop, twenty 
 yards of lace worth twelve dollars a yard, it must 
 have sli})ped down between the lining and the box, 
 where her clever lingers forki^d it out." 
 
 " I can assure you," said I, gathering strength 
 from the peril in which I saw myself placed, " I 
 never touched nor saw that lace until this moment; 
 those ribbons I solemnly declare I never touched nor 
 saw either." 
 
 '' We are well accustomed to such stories," said 
 the policeman. '-Every one of your kind would 
 8wear down our throats that they are the honestest 
 people in Montreal ; in the meantime 1 suppose she 
 
THE GRAND GOPDONS. 
 
 455 
 
 had better be taken to the police office. Judge Coursel 
 is now sitting and she can be committed at once." 
 
 I raised both my hands and eyes in supplication to 
 Mr. Moir, begging of him that he would send to 
 Doctor Balfour and Mr. Cloldenow, who would both 
 satisfy him as to the impossibility of my committing 
 such a crime, adding — 
 
 " My name is Miss St. Clare, and I live at Mrs. 
 Dunbar's, number 8 — St. Catherine street." 
 
 Drowning men catch at straws ; it must have been, 
 with some feeling of this kind I named Mr. G oldenow. 
 While his name was yet on my lips I remembered 
 distinctly almost the last words I heard him say 
 when he refused to allow me draw any more of the 
 money placed in his hands to my credit, " you ought 
 to be very well pleased to get off so easily." 
 
 " Doctor Balfour is not at home," replied Mr. Moir, 
 " But we will send to Mr. Groldenow and give you 
 the benefit of whatever he can say in your favor ; I am 
 sorry to see a respectable looking young woman and 
 a countrywoman of my own, accused of the crime of 
 theft, with such overwhelming evidence against her. 
 A strange gentleman saw you put that lace under 
 your overskirt, and in the moment pointed you out 
 to this young man, informing him of what you had 
 done. Of the ribbons we knew nothing, until the 
 policeman took them from your pocket." 
 
 Mr. Moir, the young man and myself, were driven 
 with the policeman, to the police-office, the police- 
 man riding on the box with the driver. 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 TVe had to wait a long time; it must haA''e been 
 upwards of an hour, it seemed to me years. As w& 
 waited, a note was given to Mr. Moir, which he looked 
 at and then handed to me ; it was from Mr. Goldenow 
 and contained these words — 
 
 " I can say nothing in favour of Miss St. Clare. I 
 fear she has been leading a life of crime, during her 
 residence in Montreal." 
 
 I half expected his answer would be unfavorable, 
 yet my heart sank within me almost to faintness as 
 I read those terrible words. 
 
 At last my case came on, and in addition to the 
 ribbons and lace found on my person, the same 
 policeman produced several yards of black silk, a 
 dozen of white kid gloves, two fine lace collars, all 
 of which bore Moir and Strong's business mark. 
 These he had found locked in my trunk in Mrs. 
 Dunbar's boarding house, although it contained 
 nothing else, my clothes being placed in the wardrobe 
 and chest of drawers. 
 
 This of course was further confirmation of my 
 guilt, if any such were needed to all concerned except 
 myself; to me it only disclosed a deeply laid scheme 
 for my ruin, by whom, I was then unable even to 
 guess. I thought of Captain Percy ; it was the idea 
 of a moment. I had not seen him since previous to 
 my residence in St. Martin's, certainly not that day. 
 nor in Moir and Strong's shop ; his appearance was 
 too peculiar and too offensive to myself not to attract 
 my notice at once if he was on the same side of the 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 457 
 
 shop, his being so near as to bo able to put those rib- 
 bons in my pocket unobserved, was out of the question. 
 
 Again how was he to have obtained access to my 
 locked trunk in Mrs. Dunbar's boarding house ? The 
 trunk I used as a receptacle for my soiled linen ; in 
 the morning before coming out I had removed all the 
 soiled clothes that they might be given to my washer- 
 woman ; I had locked the trunk ; the key was still in 
 my pocket, yet the policeman had there discovered 
 stolen goods; it was impossible that Captain Percy 
 could have placed those things within a locked trunk, 
 in a house he had never entered ; the idea was too 
 far fetched, too preposterous to be entertained for a 
 moment. 
 
 The case was soon disposed of. I was committed 
 for trial at the Quarter Sessions, hearing around me 
 such sentences as " It will be a penitentiary case," — 
 " a complete roguery." — " She well deserves seven 
 years, and she'll get them." — " This is the way the dry 
 goods merchants in Montreal are mostly ruined." — 
 
 I could neither weep nor pray ; my heart seemed 
 to stand still ; the only feeling I am conscious of 
 during that terrible drive to prison, was a wild long- 
 ing that I could throw mvself into the river I saw 
 through the openings iu tli© rows of houses, as we 
 passed. 
 
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 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 APTAIN Percy was well pleased with his 
 y work of the morniim- ; he did not leave Moir 
 /tj£/.KJ rjjj(]^ Strong's iintil he saw his X'^oor victim on 
 her way to be examined at the office, and then 
 hastily quitting the store he jumped into a cab, 
 giving the address of his boarding house, and ordering 
 the man to drive for life and death. 
 
 On arriving, he ordered the man to wait, and 
 rushing to his own room, where fortunately he found 
 his wii'e was out, as she might have detained him for 
 a few minutes, he opened his desk, taking therefrom 
 several parcels which he hastily thrust into a valise, 
 and this done, again made his way with what speed 
 he could to the cab, desiring the man to drive to 
 number 8 — like lightning, if he could. 
 
 Again desiring the cabman wait, he sprang out 
 and rang Mrs. Dunbar's door bell with all haste ; 
 Jenny soon made her appearance. 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. DiMiville, is this you ?" 
 
 " Is Mrs. Dunbar in, Jenny ?" 
 
 *' No Sir, she's just gone to market two minutes ago." 
 
 *' AVell, Jenny," said he, proceeding up stairs as he 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 459 
 
 ?*poke. *' I'll just go up to the room I was in before, 
 wash my hands, and leave this empty valise." 
 
 " Oh ! tSir, you cant do that, the lady's come home." 
 
 " But she's surely not in her room this line morning." 
 
 Captain Percy was by this time inside the room, and 
 
 throwing off' his coat, as if preparing to wash his 
 
 hands, said to the girl — 
 
 " I'll wash mv hands and be out of the room in 
 less than five minutes, and here's half a dollar to 
 you, Jenny, for the trouble you'll have in emptying 
 the dirty water and putting Miss ^t. Clare's traps in 
 order ])efore she returns. Go down, Jenny, and 
 speak to the cabman, and take care he wont go otF 
 and leave mo ; these fellows sometimes do so. I'll be 
 down stairs in a few minutes, and bring my valise 
 with me ; you'll give it to Mrs. Dunbar, and neither 
 she nor Miss St. Clare will ever know I've been in 
 the room." 
 
 Jenny ran down stairs, delighted at her good 
 fortune in having gained half a dollar so easily, while 
 Captain Percy, locking the door, opened Miss St. 
 Clare's tiunk with one of his own keys, which he had 
 ascertained on his previous visit, would do so, put 
 therein the parcels contained in his A-alise, locked the 
 trunk, put on his coat, poured some water into the 
 l)asin, threw the towel on the floor, and takmg his 
 \ alise, left it with Jenny in the hall, who, with smil- 
 ing face and wondering eyes, stood gazing after him 
 as the cab whirled him along towards Cote des 
 Neiges. Rubbing his hands in his gleeful wicked- 
 ness, he exclaimed aloud — 
 
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 460 
 
 THE GKAND GORDONS. 
 
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 *' I have struck the rig'ht nail on the head this time ; 
 she wont cross my path for the next sei'-en years, 
 that's certain, and loni*" ere then my good Aunt Gil- 
 christ will be among the angels, and her atiectionate 
 iiephew Bertram in possession oi' his sixteen thousand 
 pounds, because he is a good boy. I will give you 
 the rest of this day to amuse yourself, Master Bertram ; 
 to-morrow you must commence your raid in search of 
 Miss Tiny, who will of course feel lonely without 
 her new found friend ; when I get my ten fingers on 
 her again, which I hope will be in the course of a 
 day or two, she will find them talons, and if Bertram 
 Percy knows himself, it will take the wit of the Evil 
 Si)irit to discover where he next hides her ; perhaps 
 after all it is not she who is there ; there are a 
 hundred places in the bush where the Indians might 
 have buried her ; I was surely crazy to think of their 
 making a grave lor her in front of their own door." 
 
 " And the empty bottle and her own words are 
 pretty strong proofs in my favor ; I hope for her own 
 sake she is both dead and buried ; if not she will 
 find that her past lile has been child's play to what 
 her future will be." 
 
 
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 On Mrs. Dunbar's return from market, about half 
 an hour after Captain Percy's departure, she was 
 surprised and not at all pleased to find a policeman 
 had preceded her, and was employed in putting some 
 questions to Jenny. 
 
 " What is it, Sir ?" said Mrs. Dunbar, who although 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 4G1 
 
 the policeman was Iho last person she would have 
 liked to see in her house, considered it policy to treat 
 him with all politeness. 
 
 " I was just asking your girl here if you have a 
 boarder of the name of Miss St. Clare, Madame V" 
 
 " Yes, Sir, pray w^alk into the parlor," replied the 
 landlady, who thought it more prudent she should 
 hear what he had to sav of Miss St. Clare, without 
 Jenny as a listener. 
 
 Once inside the room, Mrs. Dunbar carefully shut 
 the door, at the same time asking the policeman in a 
 low voice — 
 
 " AVhat is it about Miss St, Clare ? she's a very nice 
 Tespectable lady, and quite intimate at Doctor Bal- 
 four's." 
 
 " I daresay that," said the policeman, imitating Mrs. 
 Dunbar by speaking in a lower key than he had 
 formerly used. " But she has been arrested for shop- 
 hfting in Moir and Strong's ; I took more than sixty 
 pounds worth from her in their office less than an 
 hour ago. I want to search her trunk or drawers or 
 whatever keepings she has in your house, and in case 
 I find anything, it will be necessary for you and 
 some one else to come with me as witnesses while 1 
 make the search." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Dunbar's face flushed up to the roots of 
 her hair; she was painfully solicitous as to the 
 respectability of her house and family, and poor as 
 she w^as, would have rather lost half her wordly goods 
 
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 4G2 
 
 TIIK (UlANl) OOHDONS. 
 
 than have any room in hor houso sonrchcd for sldlcn 
 urticloN. 
 
 " Aly ftnu'ious ! what an awl'nl thin!»' !" oxclaiiiK'd 
 slio. " Who vvouhl liavo thoui>ht it oi' her? this conies 
 of a hie ol'itUeness, n«'ver workiiii*' tor a meal she ate, 
 l)nt wandering- about idle Ihrouuh tin^ streets, and" — 
 Mrs. Dunbar stopped short in hi'r sj>eech, tliinkiiiir 
 it was better for her own sake the polieenuin shotdd 
 know as little as possilde, saying* menially, " What 
 do 1 know, hut every word I say to him may be in 
 the 'Witness' before to-morrow morning- ?" 
 
 " Come away up stairs. Sir," said she in an under- 
 tone, and ushering him to Miss St. Clare's room, called 
 aloud to her daughter Sophy to come to her there ; 
 Shutting the door, she requested the policeman to 
 proceed with his duty as quickly as possible ; she 
 herself informing Sophy in the same low voice she 
 had formerly used, of all the policeman had told her 
 concerning Miss St. Clare. 
 
 The drawers were opened and examined, nothing 
 was found there, but in the trunk, as the. reader is 
 already aware, they discovered a piece of silk, white 
 gloves and collars, all bearing Moir and Strong's 
 business mark. 
 
 If possible Mrs. Dunbar's horror was increased at 
 the sight of these articles. 
 
 " I hope and trust, Sir," said she, in a tone of 
 entreaty to the policeman, " that you will not allow 
 ray name to appear in the papers ; it is enough of 
 distress in a resj)ectable family to have had a thief 
 
THE GRAND OORDONS. 
 
 403 
 
 risinj? and Hlocpini? ninoiif:; Ihcm williont having' our 
 namt's in everybody's inoiilli, aiid indeed it would 
 lake the bread eleun out oi" our teeth, did such a 
 thing come to be known." 
 
 •' Have no fear, Ma nm," replied the policeman. 
 " I'll neither h^t your name nor your number appear 
 in the papers ; it's easy keeping both out by saying 
 the things were found in Miss St. Clare's boarding 
 house in St. Catherine street." 
 
 " That will be just the thing," said Mrs. Dunbar, 
 her voice telling the relief the policeman's words had 
 imparted to her. "Nobody who knows us would 
 ever mix up my name with a ])oarding-house, but 
 what do you think she would do with all that heap 
 of white kid gloves ?" 
 
 •' Sell them, Ma'am,"' answered the policeman. 
 " Them gloves is worth a dollar and a half a pair» 
 and it's likely she would get three dollars for the lot ; 
 if there were no resets there w^ould be no thieves,, 
 but there are plenty of both in Montreal." 
 
 After the policeman's departure, Mrs. Dunbar and 
 Sophy sat down to consult as to the best means of 
 concealing Miss St. Clare's delinquencies from their 
 other boarders, and it was finally resolved on between 
 them that no one except themselves should know 
 what had happened, not even Medora, lest she should 
 betray the secret to her lover, and the better to facilitate 
 this concealment, Jenny was forthwith instructed 
 should any one call for Miss St. Clare, to say she had 
 left the house and was not to return, and that «he. 
 
 
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 Joim V, know not in what pliico she had taken up her 
 
 tl])O(l0. 
 
 " As to mo," said Mrs. Pnnhar, aftor Jenny having 
 Toooivod hor instructions, had hoon dismissed to the 
 TOiiions ])olow stairs, " It* they come to mo for 
 inibrmalion al)out Miss !St, Clare, they'll go away as 
 wise as they came." 
 
 " Poor thinir," said Sophy, " I am very sorry for 
 her ; she was so quiet and nice in the house." 
 
 " So she Was," r«^plied her mother, "and paid her 
 board regular to the day and no scrimping about it, 
 ^vilh either board or waslierwomaii ; so she might, 
 these light lingered gentry earn their money easy 
 enough. " Light come, light go," is an old proverb, 
 and a very true one." 
 
 A fortnight had passed away in searching first 
 for the Cure, whom according to Father Paul's wish 
 the bishop had sent on a missionary tour, and then 
 againin making inquiries at the various convents, ere 
 Captain Percy discovered that the unfortunate object 
 of his search was indeed an inmate of the convent 
 of The Holy Cross. Captain Percy knew well in 
 each instance how to proceed, and the prioress at 
 once admitted, on his making the inquiry of her in 
 person, which he took care to do, that a young woman 
 named Smith had been left there until her brother 
 would come to take her away. 
 
 " Then I have come now," said he. " I will get a 
 <?ab from the next street, and be back here in a few 
 minutes to remove her." 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 40'"' 
 
 )«J 
 
 "Nay, not ko fasl," iplurnod tho piioross, "Wo 
 linvo ])(Mm inf()r)n«»(l ihni th«^ j)or80iiin <iiU'stion is the 
 dnuu'lilor of a lady ol" rank in kScotlaiid, and it is most 
 proUablo lliat oven now there are those of her own 
 kindred on niid-oeean who come to bring lier lioiae 
 io her own land." • 
 
 (*apiain l*ercy f;neered ; lie was prepared for this. 
 
 *' I am .sorry that the lady superior has l)een de- 
 (cived," said he, " })y one who is most unworthy, one 
 who is uow in jail in ihis ci'\ and will soon ho 
 oxpiatiui:^ her crime oi' thel't in tJic penilenliary. It 
 was Miss ISt. Clare who gav; you fo uiH\i-sta-nd that 
 my sister is Lady Cordon ot JiOckG,iiiisle's dauuhler. 
 Vou have not seen Miss St. Clnre ior o fortnight V" 
 
 The prioress admitted such to br» the case. 
 
 "No," said he, "she has durint^ that time been 
 iiifcarcerated in the Montreal jail for the crime ot* 
 stealing lace and ribbons from the counter of Moir 
 juid t!5trong, by which means she supported herself, 
 ill expectation of being aide to palm olf my sister on 
 this rich family as a daughter of the house. My sister 
 is weak-minded, and at times fancies herself the lady 
 whose name Miss St. Clare wishes her to assume ; if 
 you take the trouble to send to the jail, you will find 
 my words are true, meanwhile I shall go for a cab 
 Io remove my sister whom you have no i)0wer to 
 retain." 
 
 " This evening 1 leave for New York en route for 
 California, and must positively take my sister along 
 
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 THE GRAND aoRDONS. 
 
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 with me. I will be back Iicre with a cab in ten 
 minutes." 
 
 *' Your sister is too weak both in mind and body 
 to travel," replied the nun eyeing Captain Percy 
 with a look which told him she had great doubts of 
 the truth of his story and speaking with a voice of 
 calm determination. 
 
 *' She is no weaker now than she has l)een for 
 years, and has been half over the world with me in 
 precisely the state she is in now." 
 
 •' As to your obtahiing your sister (if she is your 
 sister) to-night, it is simply impossible ; you may be 
 Smith or you may not, our Superior cannot tell ; it is 
 (piite as i^ossible that you have a sinister purpose to 
 serve in obtaining i^ossession of this young woman 
 as that Miss St. Clare has such ; you must bring the 
 Cure of St. Martin's or the Indian who brought her 
 here, to identify you as the man Smith, who you say 
 you are, before w^e can hold any further communica- 
 tion with you upon the subject." 
 
 " I will bring neither the one nor the other," replied 
 Captain Percy with the utmost boldness. *' I will 
 return here in ten minutes, and if my sister is not 
 delivered uj) to me, I will apply to the strong arm 
 of the law ; you may have the x^h^asure ere to-morrow 
 morning of having your convent doors forced open 
 and all the low rabble of Montreal wandering through 
 its cloisters, as a punishment for having shut up a 
 protestant woman within your walls, whom her 
 friends wish to rescue from your clutches." 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 -!07 
 
 Captain Percy was gone, and the nun shuiting- 
 down the grating" through which she had spoken to 
 him, sought the Superior's room in much alarm, that 
 she might inform her of what had jjassed in this sliort 
 but turbulent interview. 
 
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 CIIAPTZR XXII. 
 
 ^^^^JI^IIE carri;ig-o stopped in front of the jail ; there 
 (^JSr®) "VVGre several others in it be.sides myself, one 
 (u.Wca) q{ whoin, a yonng woman, was so tipsy as to 
 be totally unalde to move. I remember leaving it 
 and going up some steps, and then all is darkness 
 and a whirl. 
 
 I found myself sitting amonp many oilier women, 
 young and old, in a large room ; a tall woman, 
 whose words Avent into my soul like iron, was 
 speaking to me as she stood looking down upon 
 me with an expression on her face of contempt, 
 strangely mixed with pity. I was sitting bowed 
 down with my head almost touching my knees, she 
 pronounced my name once or twice in louder accents 
 as she si)oke ; I looked up and saw her hard cold 
 face, I thought her tlien the most unfeeling woman 
 I ever saw, I lived to know she was exactly the 
 reverse. 
 
 I looked at her only for a moment and then resumed 
 my former position, my head bent down between 
 my hands ; no part of my liie before or since was 
 evi'r fraught with half the misery tliat weighed 
 down my soul almost to the grave, during tJie iirst 
 day and night 1 spent in Montreal Jail. 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 469 
 
 I could not pray ; I could not think ; my soul was 
 wrapt and wrung; the IIoaA'ens above me were 
 brass, the earth and all therein iron. 
 
 I heard a man's A'oiee say " How long has she 
 been here f* The tall woman answered — 
 
 " She has sat there lor lour hours, bent down, and 
 rocking herself to and fro, as vou now see her." 
 
 " Poor thing, God pity her," replied the man, and 
 putting his hand on my shoulder, he said in a pitil'ul 
 A oicc, " I am a clergyman, will you not let me read 
 a little of the Bible to you, or try to comfort you in 
 some way V 
 
 Without otherwise moving myself I shook his 
 hand from olf my shoulder. 
 
 *' It is better to let her alone," some one said close 
 by, " it's hard to say if she is acting or not ; she imposed 
 on them at the boarding house, and made them think 
 she was half a saint, paying seven dollars a week 
 out of what she could steal from the shops." 
 
 "Poor thing, she has diiven.her hogs to a })ad 
 market," said the man. " The policeman who came 
 with them said she had the appearance and manners 
 of a lady." 
 
 " It she got the breeding of a lady, she has made a 
 bad use of it ; it will be a high jury court case, and 
 she is sure to get seve.i years in the Penitentiary." 
 
 "Poor girl," was the repl7, " however bad she is, 
 she is some man's child; the course she has been 
 X^ursuing will make sore hearts in some home, perhaps 
 
 .■^" 
 
470 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 rV 
 
 i I 
 
 Ir ^ 
 
 « 
 
 amon2^ docoiit pooplo, -who tliink to-night she is 
 earning her broad in a rospoctablo way, and will 
 look lor her coming* home to thom when she is 
 serving her time in tlie I'enitentiary, and perhaps 
 learning to be worse than she is." 
 
 " I liaA'e no fancy for making ])ots of criminals," 
 said tlie woman, "least of all one who has shown 
 herself sneh a bold thief as she has done; not only 
 do the merchants sulfer, but the poor clerks have 
 often to i)ay what is missing in their departments ; 
 how much would a poor boy have of his year s wages 
 alter paying for what she stole to-day :?" 
 
 *' That is true ; the innocent often sutler more than 
 the guilty, but if I am any judge of human nature, 
 this poor woman is paying a dear penalty for her ill- 
 gotten gains." 
 
 At night I was taken to the C(dl where I was to 
 sleep, a place wide enough to admit a bed, with light 
 borrowed from the coj'ridor, and admitted bv a 
 space above the door which sm'ved as a window and 
 ventilator both ; I cronched dowii hi a corner, as I 
 heard the door fastened upon me for the night, keep- 
 ing myself carefully away from the mattress and 
 counterpane which formed the bed and bedclothes ; 
 that night, I would not have encountered the 
 pollution of touching either ; ere I left the prison 1 
 was thankful to lay my weary aching head down to 
 sleep on the one, and to cover my leeble limbs with 
 the other. 
 
 It was still early; the open space above the door 
 
 i 1 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 471 
 
 she is 
 iiul will 
 L she is 
 perhaps 
 
 iminals, 
 s shown 
 not only 
 rks have 
 ivtments ; 
 y s wages 
 
 [nore than 
 u nature, 
 lor her lU- 
 
 I was to 
 Adlh light 
 ted hy a 
 ndow and 
 loiiier, as I 
 o-ht, keep- 
 tiess and 
 ledclothes ; 
 Itcred the 
 prif-on I 
 d down to 
 iinbs with 
 
 the door 
 
 •of my coll was opposite to a window in the corridor, 
 •an open window, and crouching as I \vas at the 
 iurther end of the cell, I could see the patch of sky 
 above, a grey leaden sky it is true, but still the firma- 
 ment in God's Heaven, looming above the grass, and 
 the trees, and all free things, things which man can- 
 not lock up between stone walls, vilify and crush 
 the life, and kill the hearts out of. 
 
 Through the open window came the sound of men 
 and women's voices as they w^alked about in the 
 street, working men and women after their work 
 was done ; a star came out of the leaden sky and 
 looked W'istfuUy and pityingly on me ; why are they 
 always so sad, those beautiful stars ? I often used to 
 ask ]nyself that question ; I knew then. It is because 
 every night they look down on misery so great that 
 the miserable ones cannot utter it ; breaking hearts 
 that can never know peace again. 
 
 The sounds of busy life were all hushed, every 
 insect had folded its wrings and laid down to rest, to 
 wait through the darkness until the sun came again 
 bringing with him warmth and light. 
 
 I heard the w^ater of the sea-like great river St. 
 Law^'ence as it swept j>ast ; I knew that on its bosom 
 every star which shone above was mirrored over and 
 over again in its ripples and waves, as they knelt on 
 the strpnd and laid their white hair down on the 
 pebbly beach, worshipping the God who made the 
 waters. — They worship in community all together, 
 those free waves ; man cannot chain them and lock 
 them up in lone places. 
 
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 472 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 God pity the solitary, the helpless and wronged 
 prisoners! Did not God know ? Aye, He did, but that 
 was no consolation then ; for a moment or two it 
 almost made me mad, that sense ot impotence ; what 
 could I a feeble woman do against these men ? this 
 overwhelmhig evidence against me ? if I had been 
 a free woman that night, I know what I would have 
 done ; I would have gone down to that river and let 
 its great waves sweep over all my bitterness of heart, 
 my sense of impotent feebleness to combat so great a 
 wrong. 
 
 Fastened up in that prison cell with its rank smell 
 and polluted air, my heart went out after all things 
 pure and free, — water washed Ararat — the pure cool 
 springs on the mountain tops where God distils the 
 clear wrter — sending it down to fill the crystal brooks 
 in the shady dells — to give life to the lily bell and 
 the blue veined violets. — The storm clouds on the 
 mountain tops — the fertile valleys, with their wealth 
 of yellow corn — the little birds — the red tipped roses 
 in their white and crimson dress — " the beautiful and 
 innocent of all earth's living things" — 
 
 The happy dreams that gladdened all my youth, 
 when my dreams had little of self, the x^lans I had 
 devised to please all I lived among fiom my very 
 childhood, all my earnest desires so seldom guessed, so 
 little understood — the quiet steadfast love with 
 which I strove to win what I coveted most, the lova 
 of others, grandpapa, Ella, all who were to me now, 
 dead, dead forever. 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 475 
 
 On the morrow I had work given mo which I was 
 expected to do diligently ; although I, like all in the 
 same room, was not yet condemned, it was deemed 
 expedient that it should be compulsory with all 
 whose crimes or misfortunes brought them there, to 
 employ themselves in neeful work given them by 
 the Matron, sewing, knittuig or such like, not the 
 oakum picking in which consisted the labor that 
 formed i^art of the punishment of those who are 
 found guilty of petty ofl'ences and condemned to 
 a certain number of months' confinement in prison, 
 in place of being sent to the penitentiary ; the latter 
 place being reserved for the greater or more hardened 
 criminals. 
 
 The work given me, and the necessity there was 
 for its being done well and quickly, was one of my 
 mercies ; I was by this means obliged to concentrate 
 the greater part of my attention on my employment ; 
 one can never be wholly miserable who has work to 
 do ; hence my days, although surrounded by, and 
 herding with the lowest of my sex, were less miserable 
 than my nights, shut np as I then was in darkness, to 
 brood over the terrible doom which had overtaken me. 
 
 I was fourteen days in jail when Father Paul the 
 old priest I had seen in the Convent, came to see me. 
 
 It anything could have given me pleasure it was 
 this visit ; my own misfortune had not made me 
 callous to the fact that there was one in the Convent 
 ol The Holy Cross, over whom a fate more dreadful 
 than my own was pending, but I knew not how ta 
 
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474 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 
 
 
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 communicate willi the iinns ; it is true I had more 
 than once soon nuns, Sisters of Charity, in the jail, 
 but I hositatod to sond a mossage by them. 
 
 I knew that the etioct which the knowledge of my 
 being in jail would produce on the minds of the 
 Sisters of The Holy Cross would be anything but one 
 likely to holj) the cause of Mrs. Percy, and I was in 
 hopes that Captain Percy might not be able to find 
 his wife's whereabouts until the arrival of Sir Kobert 
 Gordon or Seal on of Thurlow, from Scotland, would 
 make it an impossibility lor him to succeed in obtain- 
 ing possession of the poor invalid. 
 
 Until then, I hoped they would attribute my 
 absence to illness or some such cause. I had not 
 !>iven them my address, and Sandy Mitchell did not 
 know it. 
 
 Father Paul told me that the previous day Captain 
 Percy came to claim his wife, calling himself Smith, 
 and the invalid his sister, and that it was he who 
 had informed the nuns of my being in jail. 
 
 The priest dealt kindly and tenderly with me, 
 assuring me of his perfect belief in my innocence ; 
 his clear blue eye telling me that his words were not 
 mere words of course, but the truth. I told him all 
 I myself knew, and he advised me strongly to have 
 an advocate to plead my cause. 
 
 I told him I had written to two of Mrs. Percy's 
 nearest relations, and that without doubt they would 
 be here as soon as steam could convey them, explain- 
 ing to him my inablity to telegraph by the cable, 
 owing to my money having been stopped at the Bank. 
 
 :Ji 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 475 
 
 Ileariiii^ of what Mr. Morton had dono, soomod to 
 fslimgor tlio priest in his Ibrmer opinion ol" niys(»ll'; lie 
 looked into my eyes with a sharp scrutiniziji'4- gluiuMS 
 as it ho would penetrate into the inner most secret of 
 niy soul. A shiid*? of sorrow passed across his face — 
 not sorrow for the silunlion in which ho found me, 
 hut for my ,Q;uilt ! he liowever promised that iSlvs. 
 Tercy should not bo given up to her husband (unless 
 the nuns were obliged to do so by law) until a reason- 
 able time had elapsed, suflicient to allow of her friends 
 coming from vScotland to her rescue. 
 
 The priest left me more sure than I had been before 
 of the utter hopelessness of my own case; his readi- 
 ness to believe in my truth and honesty at iirst, his 
 1)liUik look and altered manner when he became 
 aware of liobert Morton's conduct, all told me what 
 I had to expect; I had well considered all the bear- 
 ings of the case, knew how it must end from the 
 first day, when I w^as accused of the theft, and the 
 stolen g'oods found on my person; yet the suspicious 
 look in the clear eye of the priest, his changed man- 
 mn" told me more strongly than any words, that for 
 me, a felon's doom in life and death, was all I had to 
 hope ibr. 
 
 The prison fare was wholesome food, but I could 
 not eat it, perhaps I could not have eaten more 
 dainty food, my sinking heart within, around me 
 prison walls, thieves and drunkards ; I always tried 
 to eat a mouthful of bread or potatoes, but one mouth- 
 ful suiFiced. 
 
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 470 
 
 THE GRAND (JOIJDONS. 
 
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 l^ho matron whom I had thouuht so hard and 
 Ktorn, somotimos ojlerod mo a little cako ; I could not 
 spoak to any of them, and whon she did so I shook 
 my hoad, to sitrnily I could not oat it. 
 
 Several times I found on ])einu!' lo^'ked into my 
 cell at nii»ht, an apple, a little milk, or a cake, ])ul 
 they were left vuitouched, my desire for food had 
 passed away with my desire for life. 
 
 I had become so thin that my dress was wrapped 
 around me, not fastened, and tho girl who sat next 
 me at work, (stranue coincidence, one accused of 
 stealin<>- articles of dress from a shop in which she 
 served), used to say, " You look like a ghost." 
 
 Upwards of a week after the priest's visit, I heard 
 the matron say to a lady who was visiting the jail. 
 " The grand jury are to sit to-morrow," and pointing 
 with her linger to myself and two others, said, 
 *' these three are grand jtiry cases." 
 
 Almost as she spoke I fainted for the first time in 
 my life ; when I regained my consciousness I was in 
 the m'.%tron's room, the lady I had seen in the ward 
 and the matron standing by the sofa on which I lay, 
 a sweet smell of perfume aroitnd, and my face w^et 
 with the water with which it had been x^lentilully 
 sprinkled. 
 
 " Take this, poor child," said the matron, speaking 
 in a kind and soft voice, at the same time olfering me 
 a cup of tea, in a cup siich as free men and women 
 drink from. 
 
 I thanked her with my eyes, but ptit away the 
 hand vhich held the cup to my lips. 
 
 I'M 
 
 i I \' •■ 
 
THE OIJAND OOIIDONS. 
 
 477 
 
 " Try to drink it, it will do you good," paid the 
 liidy, " and do not think of the past ; it is all ovor 
 now, and you cannot help it ; it will bo a warning lor 
 you iii your future life." 
 
 " I*oor thiniT," said the matron, " she has sulfered 
 onouL»h already ; I never saw any one take on as 
 slie does." 
 
 *' Where are her friends ?" asked the lady. 
 " I dont think she has any here ; it seems to me the 
 policeman said slug's from Scotland." 
 
 " What part of Scotland do you come from ?" said 
 the hidy, addressing- me. 
 
 I shook my head, but did not answer. 
 
 " You need not think to get anything out of her," 
 said the matron, a slight touch of anger in. her voice. 
 " She has not spoken one word, good or bad, since 
 she came, excej^t one day a catholic priest came to 
 see her." 
 
 " Perhnps she is a catholic." 
 
 " Oh ! no, she went to Doctor Balfour's churcli 
 quite regular." 
 
 " Why ! that is most extraordinary! "* 
 
 " It is the case though." 
 
 " Perhaps she's not guilty of the theft," said the 
 ludy, in a suggestive voice. I could have worshipped 
 lior for the words, and the way in which they were 
 spoken. 
 
 "Oh!" — replied the matron, an oh! — lengthened 
 out for several seconds, " that she is ; goods worth sixty 
 
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 478 
 
 THE OHANI) OOHDOXS. 
 
 pounds wore fouiul on hor poison, hosidos a lot of 
 Ihinns all stolon irom tho snino shop Ihiii \\\o i)olico 
 lound in a locked trunk in hor room at tho boardinu* 
 houso whoro sho livod ; look at hor iaco, that would 
 toll you she's ^uilly; she never hoars it spokcni oi' 
 without growing as rod as lire." 
 
 AVhat poor sludonls oi" human nahiro most of us 
 are ; no brute, natural or moral, is capaldo of blush- 
 ing ; the blushing lace is an iiulox oi' an ascetic 
 reeling which none but the thoughtful and sensitive 
 possess ; it is one of the inalienable characteristics of a 
 rational and pure minded being ; inordinate blushing 
 has over appeared to me as the evidence of extreme 
 sensitiveness, yet this is tho way half tho world 
 judge. One of my early memories goes back to hear- 
 ing a girl of fourteen condemned by her mother and 
 father as having broken a valualde piece of china 
 and lied to hide her fault, on tho testimony of her 
 supposed tell-tale face, ^vhore the blood rushed in 
 indignation at the way in which she was spoken to, 
 while an elder sister, who was the real offender, sat 
 at the piano, listening to the accusation with an 
 unblushing countenance. 
 
 Thus it will be until the time comes when we shall 
 know as we are known. 
 
 That afternoon the girl who sat beside me gave me 
 a nudge with her elbow, saying as she did so, 
 " There's somebody come to see you." 
 
 I looked up in Mr. Denham's face, as he took my 
 hand and pressed it in his own ! 
 
THE OTiANl) C.olIDONS. 
 
 470 
 
 "I Imvo beoii soaroliiiii^- lor you lor (liree Mooks ; 
 tan luiiiutes since 1 louud out you won.' lioro." 
 
 I did not answer ; I liad no wi.sh evor to isiioiik to 
 anyone again. AVords -would liavo choked mo then. 
 
 The matron came up to where ho stood and said — 
 
 " You can speak with Miss JSt. Clare in my room, 
 
 il' vou like, «ir." 
 
 He thanked her ; it was evident they had not met 
 then, for the lirst time. 
 
 lie bent down that he mii^ht draw my arm ^vithin 
 h's owMi, and so conduct me from the ward. ^My 
 il. it imjiulse was to reluse to go, and acting on this, 
 1 drew my hand almost rudely from his; ho looked 
 at me with a piteous expression in his face, as if he 
 were pleading with me for 'another ; a sudden 
 thought of home and Ella rushed to mv soul. 1 rose 
 to my feet, and motioning him to load the way, fol- 
 lowed him to the room I had been in the day 1 fainted. 
 
 lie wished to place me on the sofa, but 1 seated 
 myself in an easy chair, and looked in his face, saying 
 with my eyes, " speak to me." 
 
 " I have heard all," said he, " but cannot understand 
 it ; have you any enemy whom you could suspect oi' 
 having put those things in your pocket ? the things 
 found in your trunk, preclude the idea of a stranger 
 having done so to save him or herself from detection." 
 
 For the first time since I spoke to the priest, I found 
 my voice. " No, I did not see any one I could suspect 
 that day." 
 
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 480 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 mm 
 
 H'lN 
 
 *' Is there any one in Montreal Avho you think has 
 any interest in injuring you? My dear Miss St. 
 Clare, I am actuated by the dearest hope to myself 
 in making these inquiries ; the question I have asked 
 has been impressed upon me as of the utmost con- 
 sequence, by one of the cleverest lawyers in Montreal, 
 who has accompanied me here." 
 
 lie said a great deal more, all in the manner a fond 
 brother would have done, if I had a brother, who 
 trusted me imi^licitly, who in his soul believed in my 
 integrity. 
 
 I told him why I had come to Canada, and of my 
 having met Captain Percy more than once, and my 
 fancy that I was followed by him the day he had 
 gone with me to Doctor Balfour's. 
 
 His reply was, " It is Captain Percy who has done 
 all this ; with God's help wo will be able, I hope, to 
 bring it home to him." 
 
 I had no hope of any such thing ; my troubled way 
 was distinctly marked out, a prison with hard labor 
 for years, and if my spent body survived that, a 
 head bowed down with shame — a blighted name — a 
 seared heart, which would never cease burning until 
 God gave me leave to lie down in the grave. 
 
 lie stayed a long time, essaying at times to say 
 something, and yet he could not ; I feared the Matron 
 would want her room, and I said so. 
 
 " No," replied he, " she knows for what purpose I 
 came here, and she is willing to give up her room all 
 day if needful ; she is a good woman, one far above 
 
 1^ 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 481 
 
 hink has 
 Miss St. 
 o myself 
 ive asked 
 nost con- 
 Montreal, 
 
 ler a fond 
 ther, who 
 ved in my 
 
 md of my 
 e, and my 
 ay he had 
 
 has done 
 I hope, to 
 
 uhled way 
 lard labor 
 ed that, a 
 name — a 
 i-ning until 
 ke. 
 
 les to say 
 Ihe Matron 
 
 purpose I 
 
 jr room all 
 
 far above 
 
 lier sphere in life ; I know her well : since the first 
 week I came to Canada I have visited this place 
 every third or fourth day, until the last three weeks, 
 which I spent in vainly searching for you." 
 
 " For me," repeated I, my voice trembling as the 
 thought filled my heart. *' Can it be possible there is 
 any one in Canada or even in the world, except 
 grandpapa and Ella, who would take the trouble to 
 search for me one day." 
 
 lie drew his chair close to where I sat ; he took 
 my hand in both his own, and said in a clear voice — 
 
 " Dear Ruth, will you be my wife ?" 
 
 My head whirled round ; my senses seemed to 
 reel ; I could not have heard aright ; I looked in his 
 face, my own must have ex^^ressed a look of blank 
 surprise, as I asked — 
 
 " What do you say ?" 
 
 *' I am asking you to be my beloved wife, to give 
 me a right to defend you before all the world, a right 
 lo call you by my name, this day, in this place, to 
 accojnpany you where you must go to-morrow ; there 
 •and then to declare to all men that you are my 
 bt loved precious wife." 
 
 It was a great temptation ; for a moment or two I 
 feared that my integrity was passing from me, but 
 tlie Angel of the Covenant saved me ; it was dear 
 happiness for me to know — it had changed every- 
 thing from blackest niidnight to bright day — the 
 assurance I had, that the only man I ever loved, ono 
 
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 llki. 
 
 482 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS 
 
 lor whom I could have gladly died, was willing to 
 brave the world's cruel scorn for my poor sake. 
 
 It was temptation, aye the greatest that could have 
 been placed in my path, for a single moment. I saw 
 Judge and Jury strongly biased in my favor, the 
 least shade of evidence I well knew would be eagerly 
 seized on to exculpate one bearing his name, but it 
 was only for one moment ; my good Angel prevailed ;. 
 not to save a score such worthless lives as mine must 
 his fair name be joined to that of crime ; it was enough 
 for me to know that he believed me innocent, and 
 good, and true ; I had a life of misery before me 
 which even his love could not heal, but the knowledge 
 that it was mine had already lightened the load I had 
 to bear, the shadow could never be so black again, 
 but could I be weak or wicked enough to let my 
 blighted name, with its blackness and mire, clog- 
 and soil his w^hite garments, there was no balm in 
 Gilead which could heal the bitter pain, the sorrow- 
 ing regret, which must be mine through all the long 
 hereafter. 
 
 No, the cross which had been given me, I must 
 lift up in all faith and humility of soul, but it must 
 be done alone, alone. 
 
 My voice was naturally low, and now it was like 
 my body, weak and powerless, yet even in my own 
 ears, if soft and low, it rang out clear and true, as I 
 answered — 
 
 " No, no, that can never be, a thousand times no." 
 
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 lling to 
 ke. 
 
 lid have 
 I saw 
 vor, the 
 eagerly 
 B, but it 
 evailed ;. 
 ine must 
 ; enough 
 ent, and 
 sfore me 
 owledge 
 id I had 
 k again, 
 > let my 
 ire, clog" 
 balm in 
 I sorrow- 
 the long 
 
 I, I must 
 ; it must 
 
 was like 
 my own 
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 CHAl'TER XXIir. 
 
 (^ATTAIN I'ercy did not rotuni to the Convent 
 jJJ in (en minutes, as he hud threatened the prioress 
 he woidd. 
 
 Jle went to his iViend Mr. Sharpquill a hiwyer, a 
 clever roi>iie, who he knew wouhl tell him the })est 
 way to get immediate possession of his wife, ii' such a 
 thint^ was possible. 
 
 That worthy listened to all Captain Percy had to- 
 say. " You must «»et the Cure or the Indian to certify 
 to your identity ; in no other way can you obtain your 
 wife ; you had better ask ibr her in your own name, 
 the nuns arc evid(intly aware who she is ; it is ])etter 
 you should say you concealed her name, as your 
 poverty was such you could not afford to place her 
 in the care oi people befitting her rank." 
 
 *' They may in that case deny giving her on the 
 plea of my being married a second time ; this would 
 place me in an awkward dilemma." 
 
 " Not at all, you are surely able to deny that ; you 
 had better send Mrs. Smith out of the way." 
 
 This was easier said than done ; the hundred 
 pounds promised by his sister had not yet arrived, 
 his means were now reduced to a few pounds ; Abbv 
 
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 Av.is in 1>!h1 ImiiKir, slio hiul Immmi no lor wcoks, sIk* 
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 1«> i>iv«» luT i» NUiii Mullu'ioiit io support her lor .sovoral 
 
 lIKUllllS. 
 
 ir lu» <M)n1«l liinispir i>() Avilli Ihm* il Avoiild )m» 
 4lill'('r(M»l. Ih' «'oul«l lluMi liik(» lu>r Io sonie of llio liiri''(» 
 r.islcni ('ili(»s in llu> Ihiilcd Si il«'s, yo out ])roinisiiin- 
 Io l)t» l);u'k in liMJI' JIM liour, iiiid l«»;ivo lu»r Io h(»r 
 ni«'dilalious lor lilo. if lio ])Io;is(m1 ; sh«» would uol 
 coine hiu'k Io IMonhcid cncm if slio could, slic liiiliMJ 
 llu» pl;uM». ils pricsis nud uuiis, ils rrcncli inliMhilnnls, 
 uhoso Imuuuiiu'c Io Iter o;irs \v;is a Juiid)l<» ol 
 iiu'MuinuKvss ^vo^ds ; she \v;is nn cncrni'lic Niroiiir 
 w oiiiiiu. 1h» well kiu>\v sli(» \v;is .sick niul lircd of liiiu 
 as unu'ii so as iu' was ol lior, n1h» would liiid work 
 lor lnMs<dl' ill a slort\ slio could not write to his 
 launly. lu> had <»vcu in I he (hiys when Ids love-lit lor 
 luM- was holiest, carelully coiuH'aled the address ol 
 his ndalious IVoni her; all would be Kale, eouhl he 
 onlv spar(> thriM^ days Io lake her away, and reluru 
 without her to Moiilreal. 
 
 Jhit ihis was iuii)ossil)le ; lie had still Tiuy's walch, 
 lu^ could sell that, it would brinii' hiui euongh Io ])a.y 
 thi» t^xpeiise ol' such a journey, ])ut every hour ol' his 
 <>w 11 time was }>reeious; Tiny must at all hazards he 
 removed IVoui the Conveut, ere any oiu^ could arrive 
 iVom r>ritaiu, who was able to reeognize her ; il one ol' 
 (hose detestable Gordons or Seatons should set his 
 eyes on Ium', he (Captain Terey) might bid larewell 
 lorever to his aunt's sixteen thousand pounds; as to 
 
TIIK OKANI) OolfDDNM 
 
 4Kr, 
 
 liis < liiidiiiiM- licr IVcnii Jlif iniiis jis Ihh wilf Ih' rouM 
 only <!<' (liis willi iiiiy sjil'dy in liirriscll", liy iTii|>osiii!^ 
 on llicm (li(> Ix'ljrl' lliiii mIio wuk IiIh nocoikI wil)', not. 
 Jiiuly (lordon's diiiiiililcr. 
 
 lie could ronic lo ii<» linid decision ns lo this; li«* 
 inusl, lie j^iiidcd l>y circunislimccs ; hIic <'otd<l ho 
 iHiidt' lo represent, either Ins wile or sister which 
 ever wiis most convenient, to liiinself; lie doiihted 
 not the nuns were nil I'rench women nnd spoke no 
 liU»L«u!iuo hut. their own; Tiny couhl not, tell them 
 who she. WiiH. 
 
 I'he lirsl. thinn' to Ik* done wns to lin<l ruit. wher«! 
 i\u) (hire wiis to he rouml. ( )n pnssin!:;' throuLih St. 
 Mnrtin'H iii't(U* Ihn disii'^reenhle encounter Ik; hnd 
 AA'ith th(^ Ktrani^or ai the Indisin's willow pit, lie hjid 
 goiio to SCO the (Jure, to uscertain I'rom him in what 
 ('Onvcnt, Mrs.J'ercy had })e(.'n p]ji(;ed, hut iound h^ 
 had f»-onc on a Missionary tour, neilhe.- Jiis servant 
 nor verier couhl t(dl whoro, 
 
 l^'ollowin*;- Mr. Shjir[)(iuiirs ii(lvi(;e, lie <h',termined 
 on making' a hold stroko to iind the addr(!ss ol' th(; 
 ('ure; ho drtisscd liims(dt" with scru])ulous care, 
 looking so much like the Captain Tercy oi halmy 
 Jndiau days, tliat Ahhy ol' her own '^oud will volun- 
 teored to kiss him, a I'avor she had heconie very chary 
 of lately. 
 
 " Whore aro you going', that you take such i)ains 
 in dressing V" 
 
 "To pay my respects to the CathoJic Ihshop. I 
 iind it is a Catholic comx)any oi the guards who are 
 
 
 
 
 hi" 
 
 -1 
 
 i'V, 
 
 m' 
 
 ♦'} '.,'"4 
 
 5- "^ 
 
 \ 1' 
 
 If 4' 
 
 7 < w 
 

 li 
 
 'I: J i! 
 • SI 
 
 1 ' ' 
 1 
 
 j 
 
 k- ■ 
 
 
 3 
 
 
 k. 
 1* 
 
 
 • i 1: 
 
 i 
 
 u 
 
 flj 
 
 480 
 
 TlIK (niAM> lioKDONS. 
 
 coniinu' Ihmc, snul it will !)»» rnlhrr jiwkwnrd il' ilicy 
 arrivo helorc I liiivc! s(mmi his Lordsliip, and luMomcs 
 to know thill 1 Imvo hi'cii so Ioiil;- in Mouti(s»l." 
 
 " So lh(\v '.wc" rt'.'illy coniinn", jmd yon ar(» lo join 
 ao-uin ?" siiid Ihe (h»lii»ld«'(l Ahhy, in(jniiiiiL>ly. 
 
 " Th(»v i'lo icmIIv comini'', nnd I iini dchMiniiKMl lo 
 join lh(Mn," replied her trulhi'nl hnshiind, kissin«»- her 
 liiUid lis lu> look his leave. 
 
 The handsomest carrini»e and pair he conld hiro 
 Avas wailing lor him; he sle[>ped in, calling to the 
 driver — 
 
 " To Iho l»ishop's i)alaee." 
 
 lu a lew niinnles he Avas in front of reveche and 
 presenling his oard, one ])repared lor Ihe occasion, 
 t"Cai)lain Herlram Tcrey, other Majesty's Guards,") 
 demanded an audience ol' ISlonseigneur. 
 
 His carriaii(\ app(Mranc«\ and card had Ihe desired 
 elleet. Jle was shewn inio a receiving room, where 
 Ihe simph* French i)riest in atteudance was at once 
 impressed wilh lln» consecpience of his guest, and 
 desiring him to wait, gave a llallering accouut of liis 
 gentlemanly deportment to the bishop, as he delivered 
 the card which ininiediately gained him admission. 
 
 He was received wilh suavity, and after paying 
 the usual compliments, eutered on the business he had 
 on hand. 
 
 " I am anxious to see the Cure of St. Martin's, Isle 
 Jesus, with as litlle delay as possible ; on going to 
 
THE GRAND OOUDONS. 
 
 487 
 
 his reHi(l<Mico I vvns told ho had gone on amission, 
 will your lordship kindly inl'orm nio where 1 must 
 j;() <o s(H»k him V" 
 
 The hishop lookod with inquirmg eyes in the fuco 
 of the speaker. 
 
 " What ])nsiness can a stranger and an Englishman 
 like yourself, have with the Cure ot'St. Martin's V" 
 
 •' The Cure oiSt. Martin's is a particular friend of 
 mine, and is in possession of information whi<;h it is 
 of importance to me I should know, if possible, 
 within a hnv hours." 
 
 The hishop was cognizant of the residence of the 
 invalid lady in the convc^nt of The Holy Cross, of th(5 
 extraordinary way in which she was brought there 
 and the reason which made lather Paul desire the 
 absence of the Cure for some weeks from his curacy. 
 Without in the least departing from his usual 
 url)anity, the prelate replied with a gravity, a severity 
 of deportment, which in one of inferior rank, might 
 have seemed rudeness. 
 
 " We of the catholic church do not confide to 
 strangers the place to, or the object for which our 
 clergy go on missions ; you cannot see, or even 
 communicate with the Cure of ISt. Martin's for many 
 weeks." 
 
 Captain Percy was confounded ; it never entered 
 into his calculations that having seen th» bishop* 
 there could be any dilficulty in obtaining i'rom him 
 the residence of the Cure ; the only obstacle which 
 appeared to him to stand in his way was getting 
 
 S>':' 
 
 »'-|g 
 
 uU 
 
 
 
TWiT 
 
 :;* 
 
 i 
 
 . I 
 
 4S!^ 
 
 TIM'. (llfANI) noKUoNS. 
 
 n«lniis.si(»ii l«> llu' 1mn1»()|», /huf Iio Ii:\«l «'l«»V(M'ly sur- 
 in(>uul«Ml, niid now li(> H«MMii«'<i lo Im> rurlli«>r oil' (liiui 
 ov«M* IVoni ilio ohjrcl. Iio .soumIiI ; lio cikIoii vortMl lo 
 rt»!»ssuvo liiins<>ir, uiid wns nlxml a sfcoiul liiiu« !(► 
 juMross Ins lordsliip, wliiMi (ho prolnio s1o|»|m'(I liim 
 slioil., l>y MiyiMi;', wilh llu' siiiiio rourlly polilciK'nM an 
 
 *' W «Mvill nol (Icliiiii yoii, Ciiplniu IN'rry ; Monsieur 
 l*r(»vosl," !i sliu'lil iiirlinnlion of Uic liiiiid in IIk^ 
 diriMtiou o\' the doov loM MonsitMir l*rt>\ osl iis pininly ^ 
 niul piMlmps uioro lorriMy llinn iiny words, (o con- 
 <lui'l iho slr;\nm>r IVoni liis lordship's piTsciicc. 
 
 Cipinin I'tMry Nvns no No>HM'r scnh'd in llio n»rriii,i»»i 
 ulnrh Wivs rapidly howling' nionu' lo\v:ir«ls his hoiinl- 
 inu' houst> in Si, ('Mihoiino slrod, limn Ih> urontid his 
 h»('lh wilh r!im\ linisliinn" up l>y siukini;' iin<l hil.ini;- 
 liis uudor \\\\ i\\\d IIumi Viiryiuii,' lht» psinloniino by 
 ^h:^kin<»' his lisl nl, and uiullovinii" curses jimiinsl. id! 
 jind sundry. Ironi Ihe bishop (h»w n lo llio pooresi, 
 priest in (lie ehureh. 
 
 " The curse ejiuseless sludl nol Inll." ^Phe word is 
 hue now, as in time past;. \Vhen (^»ptain Percy 
 look his departure, brealhinii" out (hrea(eiuni»s aiiainsl 
 bishop lu)uruet, he was a I'eeble old man who liad 
 just appoinled a coadjutor. Now^ thai several years 
 liave i>assotl, 1 sec him I'roiu my window while 1 
 ■write, a lialo kH>kiiii>* erect man, walkin;^ vip and 
 down on the ou(er corridor in front of his palace. 
 
 '' A pretty kettle of fisli 1 have made of tliis 
 business." Captain Percy exclaimed aloud, as soon 
 
rly MH'- 
 )ir iliun 
 oimmI Io 
 (im<» !<► 
 ImmI liini 
 
 tMM'ISrt US 
 
 JousitMir 
 I ill 11m^ 
 splninly, 
 
 <, Io ("UH- 
 IM'. 
 
 lis l)oM.nl- 
 romul W\x 
 11(1 Itilini;- 
 nmno )>y 
 • iiinsi !(ll 
 
 » pOOlM'Sl, 
 
 word is* 
 lin INmm'v 
 :s n n:\in si 
 IwIjo liivd 
 rill yours 
 whilo I 
 lip 11 nd 
 Itdaco. 
 
 [ of this 
 as soon 
 
 'IIIK (MIANI) nollDONH. 
 
 'IHD 
 
 iiM liJN iiii}j;<>r liiid rool«>(| oil' Nuiiirifiilly io 4>ii)ii>l<' }iiiii 
 io ^'ivH iill4*niiirn Io liis tlioiiL!;|ilH " I liiivci H|M'nt 
 iiirrc ol' my jew rciiDiiiiiii;^- ilolliirH, In'sidrH IVillfrint;' 
 iiwiiy s<'\(>nil Ikmun of |M'«'<ioiiH liiii<>, iiikI niii no 
 iH'iircr Io IIm' oljjrrl, I srclv lliiiii I vviiM y('Hl«'r<liiy ; mm 
 H InsI resource I sliiill \ isil. MoiiNJciir I'ieiird ui lli«) 
 Hemimiry ; lie In u ^;ood ii!ilinr«l Ifllovv ; il' he <im 
 help me i (hncsiiy he will. " 
 
 rulliii<4' his lieiid lliioiivh llie si<h^ \vin(h»vv, h«^ 
 c-iilled Io the driver — 
 
 " To Hie Semimtry ol'Sl. Siilpiec." 
 To Ihe SemiiiJiry lie vveiil, juid hiivv Monsieur 
 Pieiini, hill lie roidd j^ive no iiijormiilion whiilever 
 <'oneernin!:; Ihe ('lire ; «iid nol, cxi-u know lie hiid I'll 
 his home ; <'ould not oven giujHs whore il, wiis likely 
 iio woidd hiivoi heeii sent. 
 
 (';ipliiin I'erey rehiled liis inlerviow wilh tho 
 Ihshop ; not liowevi'r repeiilin^' nil Ihe, l*r«dal(5'H 
 words, iind while (loin«r ko, ooiild not help Ixitrayinj^ 
 liis ohii|>rin at IIkj r<'sull. 
 
 Tlio priest h«'iird him in silent surprise, and when 
 ho had I)ow<mI his «;'uest out, and loavitiL'' Iho vestilmlo 
 soui^hl, his own apartment, ho could not holp solilo- 
 (pii/ini^- llius in aoconts hall'idoud — 
 
 " Call on tlio ])ishf)p, forsooth ! that follow has inso- 
 loneo linod with coniidoncc! ; I (h>uht not ho would 
 as soon as not ask a dozen questions ol' St. Francois 
 Xavier, il'he could only roach his abode." 
 
 The Indian was now his only rfjsource, and with- 
 out returning to tSt. Catherine street, Captahi Percy 
 
 I : ■■! 
 
 *v M 
 
 h 
 
 ' v. f 
 
 
 ■ ;■ ^ M ' 
 
11 m \ ' 
 
 1/ '•} 
 
 m>^^ 
 
 *M 
 
 VM) 
 
 'YWl'. tlUANP iliUntnNM. 
 
 nl oH('i» s(>l oil lot ( 'nuplinnw imii. Im )'u«ltM»\ or, lInMiiiili 
 Nonio oT l))i< ImhiiUM ll)i<i o, lo i|iNfo\ i<i id I<>iimI in wlitil 
 <l)it<('tion llio Iniiiiin liml •>oti<>, iiiol wliiil rtMiMOMiil)l<> 
 pVOMpoi'i (IliMO WtIN o| lilltlllii) llini III lllllt> lo lie ol 
 
 I lovo lio \\ UN nn»n» Miicctv^'^rul. lli»|»liNli». Ilio linlniii 
 )«ilot, mi)«IimIooI\ lo lii)«| o\il III \\ lull <ln<M<lioii Mninoii 
 <|!I!vo1n w ;\ Mini Ins Iiu'IkIn IiikI jvttiio lo limil. |»i\ in!>; 
 11 ;\s liiN opinion (hill llio\ \\t>ro nol \ t>l \)Mv In r oil 
 
 II \\;(N s.'\(Mnl »lii\N (MO IliipliNlc ronlil inii\o iil 
 !in\ riMl:iinl\ its lo th*< ronl<> llio oM linlinti iiinl Iiim 
 ]>:nl\ li:nl l;ilv<Mi, Mini \\ liiM) mI ImnI winil hooiiipiI 
 ioIimMo inrovniMlion wmn ohlMiiUMl. il nvmn loninl 
 inMi'ssMiv lor ('MplMin INmcv Ii» icliifn lo MoiiIkmiI, 
 Mini homo hv <^IIm\\m. lo pronMMl lo I'oi Iml'.'* <ln I'oil 
 Mho linliMM h;nl hoon llioro Ihron «Imvh pro\ ions, iI 
 \\ MS possihh' ho nnuhl ho lhor(> nIiII. iT nol. JiiloniiMlioii 
 oT Ins voulo Mini m i^iinlo lo Iun oMiiip, immiM oMNily ho 
 pvoouvo«l Ml TovImoo ,|u I'orl. 
 
 ll WMs soxovmI «Im\s inoi»» oit» In* lonolnMl Ihn 
 rovlM«a(\ liM\olluii> h\ iMii Mini l»t>Ml. 1111(1 hiNlornll hy 
 tln^ vninl»]inn" ol«l «liliiiono«» sliil u,s(mI in liio inlorior, 
 i\\u\ whiv h. liM\ollinu" M»nioliinos nl lln» imIo ol" Iniir 
 milos Mil liouv. soouitsl lo niook lln»hMslo wilh \vhi<'h 
 ('Mplniii 1\mo\. i! ln» ooiiKl, woiiKl 1im\ o llowii lo moot 
 Ihi' oUjoot of liiN Nv» roll. 
 
 AVhon Ml ]ms< ),o Mirivoil mI liis (loslinnlion, mid 
 loiiiul iho linliMiiot' wlioni ho was lo ohlnin ii. oluo lo 
 Manu^iulMiiokwa in omso iho hilhM* shouhl 1imv(» loll 
 tho rovtago, ho louiul ihal tlio oanip which lio «ougiit 
 
'J'inc MHANI) noHlMiNH. 
 
 MH 
 
 ^^ll^ loilv iiiilt'^i In IIm' Mftilli. iind only MccPMniMf hy 
 
 II riiliuM 
 
 III' w IIM II. «l»>"|M'iiili' limn; il vviin ii. fn'c iMriiiiiMf. 
 Illlli'. \\ llH'li \\ UN In iiinlii'oi miii IiJh |(irllli|i> in nil lilM 
 liil iiii> IiIm. 
 
 lit' l<Hi|; fiMlii Inn how IM|M(|lv «lt' M'llHilltr nI'TM 
 
 Iwt'lilv hIiiIIiiimh hi miI\('I, m Iiiiu«" miiiii III (Ik- cyi'M fif 
 
 nil lllililtll, mid! lloMlllfr lilt- tiiiilM'V III lll'i IiiIIkI Hit 
 Illlli ll iMiild lie «||';||IM lly K<'C||, lir rii|f| 
 
 " I will H|\o nil HiIm Mihi'i lo llif iiiiiri wli'» will 
 liilsi< iiM< I'* IIm' old JihIiiiii'm niiiiji, IriiviiiiC '^"^ "t' 
 iliiv IhciiIs lo iMoiMiw moiiiinir'* 
 
 'rin'i(" wiiH 11 |»iiiiK(' (»r Hi'v riiil iriiiiiil«'«; IIm- liidiiin 
 iHwrr liiniii'H liiiiiMfll ; mid n irroii|» orH«'V<'ri or «i(dd, 
 iiM'ii liy vvlioiM lip WIIH Niii roMiidi' I, lool<«'d lii>»( orin 
 iiiid IIk'Ii iiiioIIm'I' ill liiiii nt llic coin, iis il' llicy would 
 iiKHino llicmNchcH ll. vviiH M<'H"iin', (nid in Kiilli* icrit, 
 (|iiiiiilily. Al. IiinI. oiM' ol' lln^ HlronupMl, lookiiiL', wnid - 
 
 " I Miicl niv HoiiH will lukii y(»ii to l.lic furnp lor iho 
 mU'ci' yoii oIIIt, ll' yoii i!]\t> it, to nii' l»< )or<^ vv*- lilt, 
 our oiirH, Imt wf will not, trirst, Ihc word ol' a vvhit«5 
 sinini'cr, Wforoiir IrilM- linve iH'V<^r Hcrn ; unri il w<5 
 Lio, vv«» niiisl, dcpiirl wln-ii lln- moon iihch, I niu'<t, l»<', 
 liiicU III. tlh' I'ortii^c Indole the moon tlirowH th'*, 
 siuidow ol Illlli. ^rvfid j>()i»|}i.r on tin; rivj;r io-inorr(iw 
 iiinhl. I lijivc Hpokcn." 
 
 I'incli oi' the hoiih irnv*' utlfranff! to fin " iii;h, nurh," 
 ns il'in iicfjiiicHrcnci' <A' what, their liitlHT had wiid. 
 
 ' ' • ■ " J, l'en;v vvant>!d. 
 
 L[> 
 
 
 ;uKi 
 
 i ll 
 
 10 money vvjih at one*; placfid in th«; Indian h 
 
'M 
 
 4t> 
 
 •> 
 
 •rili: «)K' VM> (iMlJIioNH. 
 
 litnid, iio niiiKiiU'' iiKpiiry >in Iio did no, il' Dio iiirMiii 
 would wivo Nulliriojil liiihl lor llio lirnl \r\\ Iiouih oI 
 
 i\ 
 
 HMV |0\n'MOV 
 
 Slio wdl nol oT loMNoir. I)nl liio rrd slur will help 
 
 us ; lio S'lV ON II 
 
 II I 
 
 UN li'ilij now," wnM llio loply 
 
 Awnv Hu<v W(Mil. (ho IndiiniN mid Iho wliilo immm, 
 III hnios towing mi n l>ro;id o\|;iiiisool wiilor lil l»y 
 *' llio li'vhl of nImin, " Ihc shoKcM oj' (h(> oiiin oii oilhri 
 Nid(> i»'NtMiil»liu!V iho WM\ ol' 11 vroiil noh hird, mh Ihcy 
 roNO jnid o!is( Iho drops o|" Itri'vhi Widor IVoiii IIiimii 
 liK(» showtMs ol diiniionds in lli(>rlo:ir niivhl. Auniii 
 \\ ituliio; ihoir mIomI wjin holwoou lnmo rocks whirh 
 IumuuhmI iIomu in on ojthrr sido. loiiviiiL*' Ihom in dm K- 
 noNs \\ hirli no .shiidow couid doopm. 
 
 'I\> (\\pli\in ToroN 'n loxorisli mind, no Kociily idi\i> 
 lo lh«' norosNJIy iIumc whs j'oi- his roiippoiirjinco m 
 ^lonlri^d. so nor\ onslv !in\ions i'or Iho hiislo w hit li 
 NtMMUod lort-iun lo (ho n.iluro ol' IJioso I\ inj)h;il i'- 
 Indians. lIuMr pvoLiross ;ippom(M| nosIow. Ihid inslcKJ 
 (>r p»M l\nnnnLi' :> jonrnov ol" oi^hly niiloN holon* IJic 
 ujoirow 's niulH. ho IcMit'd il would ho (h;il (iino or 
 huor on' ihov roiuh»>d (ho lndi;\n ciinip. 
 
 Thoy h;id ro;u hod m piirl ol' (iio rivor \\ lioro il 
 l>ro;ulon»'d inlo ;i ImK*'. shnh'od wilh niiimII Ircc 
 oovo^oil islands, on o\\{' of Iho Imm'sl ol' which wore 
 soxoial U>d>ios, I'orniinu' a small oncampnuMil; ol 
 Ind'ans, a numUor ol' whom cann' (<► (ho waters 
 oiluo as tho oanoo swept l»y. 
 
 Tho hulian w ho laado (ho au'riMMucnl wi(li <.'a])inin 
 l\Mcy. spoko to those on shore a long Npi'ocli lor an 
 
'I'Hir, «II(\M> «l(»inMiN.l. 
 
 '\m 
 
 Im.I 
 
 lull. Who iM y-oinMiilly liMfMiic in mh' iv in-mf, y« 
 
 III 
 
 •», 
 
 i!isl(> wliicli 
 
 IkiI iiish'iMi 
 
 tliiil liiiii' or 
 
 Wllicll VV(MO 
 
 (lui walor's 
 
 '(H'li lor all 
 
 lit' (Ihl not lor oiM< iiioiiM'iil ithI, on Ihm oiir, ImiI mw«'|*I. 
 tui, roiiliimim^ io H(M'iik «'V('ii iilhT litM l»)i< k vvum 
 tiiriKMJ lovviirdH Imm liHh'iit'iH. 
 
 TliP 1 11(1 ill MH OH hIio((" i('|»li«M| l>y I wo «tr llircn " I ir\i, 
 iiLtiiH," iiiid ill M, I'rvv iiiiiiiih'H Him (luioo, willi iIh wImIo 
 iiiKJ r«'(l IVfiulil, vvMH liir itiml, Him iillJM iKliiiwlH jukI 
 llii'ir (liiHky iiiliiil>iliiiilH. 
 
 il WIIH lIH IIh'HM isilllKJK l('<M'«|cf|, IIImI III, IiikI 'Hh- 
 
 ;t|)|H'iiit'«l Iroiii liiH vi»'vv, IliiilCiiplnin l'«'rcy rcsiji/cd 
 llic nmon wiih miikiiii.'; n rwWirv pdHSJi^c Hkdi iiiiy 
 l»o!il rowed hy vvliil<' iricii coiiM do. 
 
 Wliiil. 
 
 IVicndf 
 
 III 
 
 lint, wcrci voii HiiyiiiLf to y<Mir hicnnH on tlic 
 ihliiiid vvM liavM JiinI |»iHscd ?" iii'ji.ircd ( l!i|>l!iiii iN-rcy. 
 
 " Tclliiii^ Hu'wi wm will ln' hark lo-inorr(»vv liit.Hit, 
 anil wailiiii^ lor Hicin , Hi<y nic. I(, go with iim to 
 Oinindai!,'o." ' 
 
 "Toi )iianda'j;o!" r('|M'jilc(| ( 'iiplnin i'crry in surpriHM,. 
 
 ho yoii HK'iui ()nanda;40, Ix-yond l»rantlor(l in Oji- 
 larior* 
 
 " I JM' Name. 
 
 " V<Mi raniiol, liiinl Hhtm V" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Mli.'ii whv «io vou L'o ?" 
 
 " We 'JO '.(» s;M-rili'<', Hie Wliilo •"'»»/. Tin; ]>ii.sh 
 wln'i'M w«'. •vorsliij) Hie. (I real. >^j)irit, ,ind iiinki'. tin; 
 jj^icat Hacrili'"*-, is nol, iiiorc, limn lour J('ai»"U(;H i'rora 
 <>iianda^'o. ()nandaL!;o is lIu' phire w*; all jintcA." 
 
 " Thcii y()U ar(5 not Chrisiiaii< T' 
 
 H-;i- 
 
 mq 
 
 if 
 
404 
 
 TIIIC (JHAM) (lOlfDoNS. 
 
 iHli 
 
 ¥M 
 
 i !' 
 
 " (Mirisliniis? No," roi)li«'<l Iho rod inini, liis finrco 
 l)lnrk oy«»s lixod on (-aplniii IVm'cv'h wliil*^ lace, sih i(, 
 .sliowi'd i)al(uuul l'tMn'-.sin<'ki'ii in tlio liiiliior (hchrosul 
 moon, now Jiiuli in iho JUnivimin. ** What nuulo you 
 think wo wore Chiislians?" 
 
 "I ihon^lil all civilizod Indians W(M'0 (Mirisiians; 
 ihal it. was only Iho suvaj^'o hulian in Iho ! ,r wvsi. 
 who remained a hoalhon.' 
 
 " Vou aro bollor inlonnod innv. AVhy should wo 
 hooonu^ Chiislians !* Muoh oi' Iho ovil anioni»' us 
 oanio wilh Iho whili' man. AVho ))roui;hi us tho 'liro 
 walorto mako Ibolsot'llu^ wiso ? Th(» Chii>:ila>\ .vIh 
 says Ihat his Clod is Iho Iruo (Jod. And \v;u ocmfjii 
 to rol) us of our land, to drivo us i'rom Iho i>'roiii rivors 
 whoro tho laru'o lisli abound, IVoni tho bush full ol' 
 liuhtwood, and turn our hunlini;' urouiuls into corn 
 holds i'or Ibod, such as ihoy Ihomsolvos dosiro to eat, 
 our pleasant woodlands into acres of i»raiu to supj)ly 
 them with iire-water ? These are not the means by 
 which vou can turn the ]*ai»an Indian IVom tho wor- 
 shi}) ol" the (i real Spirit to serve the Christian's God.' 
 
 Captain PiMcy felt ill at ease when he ibund »hat 
 his companions were I'agans, men who Q\on now 
 were i)rei>aring lor the sacrilice of the White Dou", 
 yet it is hard to say why he should fear them ; '-is 
 own Ch'ristianity was nothini>" more than an empty 
 nauu\ the very erraiul he had come upon, and lor 
 which he souiiht tho aid of the red man, Mamonciaaro- 
 kwa, was so atrocious, so directly opposed to the teach- 
 ing of llim, whose last commandment was " love one 
 
 I 
 
 
TlIK (ilJAND OOKDONS. 
 
 495 
 
 lis liorco 
 ii('(», jis it 
 lu> hroad 
 lado you 
 
 irislimiH ; 
 I iV wefsi. 
 
 loiild vv«> 
 inoni»* UK 
 s Iho 'ire' 
 
 \ih>\ .vIk 
 
 OiiL rivors 
 
 ii lull or 
 
 iuto corn 
 Yii to cal, 
 o Kupjdy 
 nouns by 
 tho wor- 
 i\s God." 
 
 lund khai. 
 i'on now 
 liito l)ou\ 
 loni ; 'is 
 ^i omply 
 and lor 
 jondago- 
 
 lie teach- 
 love one 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 another," tliai hiw loar of tlu; ]*ai^an Indian, his lean- 
 ing' io Chrislianiiy (like his own ?) was ai)aradox. 
 
 '^rho oncarnpm<Mit was at last roacdied in tho f^r<'y 
 liiijit of a irosty autumn morning, when tho, lon-st 
 was shininuc rod and pfold, and tho }>ri«r]it ])lumod 
 )»irds sanu^ Ihoir I'arcwoll carol or<^ thoy dopartod Io 
 sook a more f^onial clime, whoro tho I'rost and snow 
 of Canada, so 8oou to I'roozc ovory livini^ thing" 
 
 exposed to its iiorc(5 cold, could not reach them. 
 
 Mamondagokwa was easily ibund, but not so easily 
 ■/)ersuaded to return to Montreal ; in laet it was only 
 by giving him Tiny's Match and chain, that he at 
 last consented to do so. 
 
 The place they were now in, ])resontod ilself b> 
 Caplaiu Percy as a most suihdde retreat I'or his poor 
 wile, should she live to survive Iho faiigue ot a 
 journey hither, and in case this should bo his resource, 
 ho made inquiries of several ol' {he scpiaws as to the 
 ])rice they would take i'or boarding the poor invalid, 
 lie found to his satisfaction, that in the wild Indiaii 
 ])ush where he now was, twenty shillings a month 
 v«'oidd be considered ample remuneration for tho 
 food and care his wife needed. 
 
 " Good," soliloquized he aloud, *' she will be made 
 of stronger stulf than 1 think she is if she stands tho 
 .shaking she will have on this journey for a month ; 
 if I had only known of this place before, what an 
 amount of expense and trouble it would have saved 
 mo." 
 
 lie laid his plans well ; we shall see how they" 
 were carried out. 
 
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 ClIAl'TKIi XXIV 
 
 jili ^^ is s!ii(l Ihni criiniiinls on llic niiilil siKMMMMliii*:^ 
 'j|' iluMi* ooiKhMinintion, niid jilso on iluil, previous 
 
 "'•■•^ io ilioir iin(l(>r<»()ini>- iln' cxlrciin' ])('iially ol' Iho 
 1 ; •■ ^ v^p more soundly llinn llicir \voui. 
 
 1'; :p''1)S IIkm'o is a law ol" uaiuro in this; tliiil, is 
 one of tlu> iliinii's avc cjinnoi know y»'i IxMsauso our 
 oyos niv lioldon, t'oilain it is llial on llio niorninL»" of 
 iho socond NovcMuhtM-, ih(> day ai)poinl('d lor ilio 
 sillinii- of llie (h'and .lury, lliai on wliicli my caso was 
 Io bo docidod, 1 roso rtdVoslu'd and slroni^l.honcd by 
 ilio only uinlit of iinin((Mrui)lod rest I had known 
 isinco 1 Avas an innialo ol' lkv\jail. 
 
 1 rollod up my bod, and knoll; dt)wn Io pray to my 
 I'alhor in lloavon for !slron<»lli and iailli in ]Iis pro- 
 iniso durini>- ilio billt'r trial I had Io iindori^o Ihat 
 tlay ; i( made me shivor Q\on to think ol' it, to stand 
 as a orimii? d in the Mi^lit ol' hundreds ol' starin*^ men 
 and women, ■who, when the evidence was all hoard, 
 Avoidd hoar mc proclaimed a thiol*. 
 
 " The L(»rd is not slack concerning" ITis promise." I 
 rose from my knees, wholly rosii>ned to llis will. I 
 know there was no hope ol' my innocence bointi^ 
 proved, the last Taint ray of hope (if I ever entertained 
 
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THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 497 
 
 such after seeinj? the thins^s which were taken from 
 my trunk) departed, when, the night before, the 
 lawyer brought by Mr Denhara, after examining and 
 cross-examining me for upwards of an hour, said, 
 with a look and voice, which spoke more painfully — 
 more plainly than his words — 
 
 " You had better plead guilty ; it will shorten your 
 term of imprisonment." 
 
 " I cannot do that. I cannot stand up before God 
 with a lie in my right hand." 
 
 *' Do as you please. I have given you the advice 
 which 1 am certain is the best ; with the evidence 
 there is against you, no one can believe that you are 
 innocent." 
 
 I had no hope of escape from the felon's doom 
 awaiting me, but I had faith given me to leave my 
 cause in God's hands, and His word came back, as if 
 written with an angel's pen, " Be not afraid, the Lord 
 thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest." 
 
 My heart rested on this His own promise, and in 
 all humility I lifted my soul to God, and said, " I will 
 cease from man ; it is time for Thee, Lord, now to 
 work." 
 
 Mrs. Balfour came with Mr. Denham at nine o'clock 
 to accompany mo to the court, but this could not bo 
 allowed. I must go in the conveyance which was 
 to bring the other criminals ; there could by no 
 means any favor be shown to me more than another ; 
 rime is a great equalizer. 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 1 remomber even now all Mrs. Balfour's kind 
 words, the cheery way in which she spoke, endeavor- 
 ing to make me believe that in the end I would see 
 and acknowledge that even this sore trial was ibr the 
 best, doing all she could to make me commit myselT 
 unto the Lord, — to Him who is mighty to save, even 
 unto the uttermost. 
 
 As the time drew near for us to be taken to the 
 court house, my mind got into the same confused 
 state as when I was brought to prison ; my brain 
 seemed to whirl round, my head so dizzy that 
 without help I could not stand. I remember nothing 
 of leaving the prison, or of entering the great waggon- 
 like thing in which I foand myself in St. Mary street, 
 looking at a girl, who toiled along carrying a loaded 
 basket, evidently too heavy for her strength. She 
 had a homely face, and was poorly dressed ; she 
 stood and looked at the conveyance wuth pitying- 
 eyes, and said to a bystander — 
 
 " These are the prisoners going to the Jury court ; 
 poor things, God help us, it is enough to be poor 
 without being covetous, they would give all they 
 have in the world now to be free " 
 
 I would have given all I had in the world to be 
 that girl with her heavy basket. 
 
 I was in the prisoner's dock, I suppose they call 
 it. As I was passing into it, some one said — 
 
 *' I will keep as near you as I can, and the Angel of 
 the Covenant will be close by your side all the time." 
 
 When my eyes and my mind cleared a little, I saw 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 499 
 
 lave, evou 
 
 Mrs. Balfour not far off, and I knew then it was her 
 voice which spoko to me. 
 
 There was a groat crowd, a sea of heads in ever}' 
 direction, yet strange to say, I looked around with 
 prying eyes, as if I expected to see some one I knew, 
 and so I did ; I saw the young woman Captain Percy 
 called his wife ; she was seated in a conspicuous 
 place, and in that solemn moment, when my happi- 
 ness or misery, my good name for lite was on the 
 cast of a die, I noted such trifles as her leghorn hut 
 with cherry-colored feather. 
 
 She looked hard at, and recognized me, spoke to a 
 plainly dressed lady-like person seated next her, 
 who also turned her face in the direction of the dock. 
 
 Captain Percy too was there ; not n«\ar his wife, 
 standing amid a crowd of other men, not very far 
 from where I stood ; he too saw and knew me ; a 
 triumphant smile passed over his face ; the expression 
 brought me back to Lady Gordon's cabinet room, 
 the picture in the blue dress^ and I felt my heart 
 beat with fear lest he now had possession of the 
 owiginal. 
 
 For a second or t^^'o my own deadly peril was 
 forgotten ; I must have stared in an offensive man- 
 ner in Captain Percy's lace ; he lifted his hand close 
 to his cheek, and half curving his linger like a claw 
 keeping it below the level of his eye, pointed it. in 
 my face ! 
 
 I withdrew my eyes instantly; the sea of heads 
 swam round and round ; I clutched hold of the bench 
 
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 500 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 m ' 
 
 in front ; without its support, I must have fallen to 
 the ground. I tiied to keep my eyes froir again 
 wandering in the direction of Captain Percy, but it 
 was impossible for me then, his face had all the 
 fascination of a basilisk ; do what I would, my ej e 
 still sought his face. 
 
 I saw him turn pale with rasce ; he thrust out his 
 tongue rolled it round, and with it again pointed in 
 my face, his gestures attracted the attention of a man 
 who stood next him dressed in the clothes of a m3- 
 chanic ; the man looked in the direction Captain 
 Percy's tongue pointed, and then turning round, 
 struck the tongue and mouth with his clenched list. 
 
 There was a commotion around the place, a 
 policeman moved towards them, the mechanic had 
 disappeared. 
 
 The Queen's advocate was summoning \ip th^< 
 case ; I heard detached sentences ; at times I could 
 not hear, at others I could not see ; my body felt 
 numbed — my brain half dead, — I still clung with 
 both hands to the bench. 
 
 "Whether it was the grimaces of Captain Percy, 
 repeating themselves in exaggerated forms on my 
 brain, I know not, but all around, over the heads of 
 the peoi^le, I distinctly saw what seemed to be evil 
 spirits floating about in every direction, pointing their 
 claw like hands and the points of then* enormous bat 
 wings in my face. 
 
 I could not concentrate my attention to listen to 
 what was urged against me, but the words of thft 
 Queen's counsel fell in detached sentences on my ears. 
 
 ! H i Hi 
 
THE GRAND (JORDONS, 
 
 501 
 
 *• The yoiin^ woman had no ostonsi})lo moans ; we 
 find lior giving seven dollars a week for her hoard — 
 she did nothing except walk about the town." 
 
 I heard the witnesses examined. Mr. Moir's shop 
 walker, saying — 
 
 " A gentleman came towards me, and pointing to 
 the prisoner, said, " I saw that young woman take a 
 large piece of lace from the box in front of lier, and 
 fasten it under her overskirt." 
 
 I saw the lace and ribbons they had taken from 
 my person handed to the Jury. 
 
 The policeman said something I heard, but could 
 not understand ; then the piece of black silk, the 
 gloves and collars found in my trunk, were shown. 
 
 A gentleman got np and said something in my 
 favor ; that I was sent out here to lind Ihe grave of 
 a lady who died some years before. He spoke for 
 what to me seemed a long time, but in all that sea of 
 heads, not one appeared to be biased in my favor. 
 
 I saw and heard Mrs. Dunbar and her dauuhter 
 Sophy examined. Sophy looked at me several times 
 with a pitiful expression, but her fi\ce bore unmistake- 
 able evidence she considered me guilty. 
 
 Mrs. Dunbar was the last witness, she Avas evidently 
 unwilling to say one word which coi-' 1 criminate 
 me. I heard and comprehended more ox her words 
 than of all which was previously said by the others. 
 The first sentence I heard her say, was — 
 
 " Uf course I saw the policeman take out the silk 
 
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 502 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 and things from the trunk, but I did not see her put 
 them there." 
 
 " No. The room was not used in her absence only- 
 one night by a gentleman who comes to our house 
 once a week." 
 
 " We never saw anything but honesty . .^ respeot- 
 ability about Miss St. C'laro. She ihinks she lo.st two 
 letters, and I am afraid she did, but we never lost 
 anything all the time she was in the house." 
 
 " Yes. She always kept the trunk locked, although 
 she said it was empty ; I offered to send it to the 
 garret out of her way, but she would not allow this 
 to be done." 
 
 After this, there was a short pause, and then a 
 gentleman said a few faint words in my lavor. lie 
 was ill at ease, it was evident he spoke linst his 
 conviction. 
 
 A few minutes more ; the one I knew to be 
 Queen's Counsel got up and addressed the jury 
 in a speech which seemed to extend into long hours, 
 proving almost to myself that I was the thief, saying 
 I was evidently a practised hand ; it was true they 
 had ascertained beyond a doubt the prisoner was 
 sent to Montreal to find the grave of a Mrs. Percy, 
 who died here some two years previous, but the 
 money which was sent out for her use while so 
 employed, had been stopped by the very man who 
 remitted it, stopped at the Bank by the gentleman 
 in person who was a day and night in Montreal, and 
 while here, held no communication Avhatever with 
 
THE GRAND OORDONfl. 
 
 603 
 
 her, she he'nia; wholly ignorant of the fact of his 
 liiivini^ been in the city, until she went to draw a 
 liundred pounds, which fortunately she was uuablo 
 to do. 
 
 He stopped for a second oi* two, and then went on 
 1o brini^ before the attention of the jury the frequency 
 of such crimes, by which not only Merchants lost 
 every year large sums, but by which occasionally 
 poor clerks, with families to support on limited 
 salaries, had to make good the losses thus sustained 
 in their own departments, sometimes as in the pre* 
 sent case, to the amount of half their income. 
 
 Again there was a long pause, this time longer than 
 oither of the others, a hui> of suppressed talking in 
 Ihe court — one of the jurymen rose, and in an ordinary 
 lone of voice, that was distinctly hoard in each corner 
 of that great apartment, by every one in that closely 
 packed sea of heads, spoke one word — " Gruilty !" 
 
 I heard it well, and understood its import. I expect- 
 ed it — was prepared to meet it — it entered like red hot 
 iron into my soul, but it could not kill — it could not 
 even make me blind or deaf for one moment. I never 
 was so painfully conscious of everything around, of 
 all the great eyes that were staring on me, as at that 
 moment. 
 
 A glass of water w^as offered me — I did not see the 
 lace of the man who handed it to me, but I knew the 
 handsomely shaped hand ; the sight of water made 
 me think of the mighty river which was rolling past, 
 and long to lay ray w^eary head and hot fiery eye- 
 
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 604 
 
 TJIK (IKAND (JOIJDONS. 
 
 balls down in iho middlo of ils bed, that its cool purcf 
 billows inii»lit roll over mo in i)oa(u% hiding mo Ibr- 
 cvor IVom tho sii»ht and touch of my fellow mon. 
 
 I know I was wailincr for my sontonco, and I lonii^od 
 for it to be spoken, hopini;' against hope that it would 
 strike me dead. 1 heard voices talking aloud — each 
 yc]>arat«'ly — yet I could not tell a word they said, 
 allhouiih I strained my ears to hear, eager for any- 
 Ihing which might distract for even one moment tho 
 fcicnse of mental i)ain "which lay like heavy molten, 
 lead on my heart. 
 
 A ■woman's voice spoke in the witness box. 
 
 " I do not know the prisoner. I never saw her 
 wnlil to-day, but I am able to give evidence which I 
 think will exculpate her from having slolen that lace> 
 silk, and gloves. 
 
 " T board, together with my husband, in number 
 8 — tSt. Catherine street ; we have lived there for two 
 years ; we are Americans ; my hus]>an(rs name is 
 George I'^lder ; a IMr. and Mrs. ymilh camo to the 
 house to board several months ago — Mr. kSmith is. 
 often from home ; about a month ago Mrs. {Smith 
 brought into my room a piece of black silk, two^ 
 packets of white gloves, and some lace collars, which 
 appeared to me to be so exactly the same as those 
 found in the prisoner's trunk, that 1 believe them to. 
 be the same. 
 
 " Mrs. Smith told me that in searching for money 
 "which she much needed, she opened her husband's 
 desk with one oi her own keys, and tliere found 
 
THE CiUAND (JOIIDONS. 
 
 605 
 
 those things ; the glovos worn marked number six, nnd 
 were rallier small ior Mrs. Smith, but not withstand- 
 in*^ this, ti).ij took one pjiir from each packet, leavin*j^ 
 iive pairs in each, instead oi'six, the oriLfinal number ; 
 th(?re were iive yards ol" silk, and she cut oil' one and 
 a hair yards, leaving three and a half. 
 
 " After doinii^ this, sh<», replaced the thinDS-s in the 
 desk she had taken them from, leaving it lock(!d as 
 before. I guess you will iind the gloves and silk as 
 Isay." 
 
 The gloves were examined ; they were number 
 six ; there was one pair wanting in each packet; the 
 silk was found to be three yards and a half long ! 
 
 The witness proceeded. *' On the ninth of October, 
 the day on which that lace was found on the prisoner, 
 it was brought into my room at six o'clock in the 
 morning by Mrs. Smith, on the hook just as it is 
 now; her husband had Ijeeii out the whole of the 
 previous night, and she opened his desk in hopes of 
 Jinding money, but on the top of the silk and gloves 
 was the lace which I thii. k you hold in your hand ; 
 she was very angry, burse out into tears, saying she 
 was certain there was some one in Montreal on 
 whom ho was spending his money, while she could 
 not get enough to buy boots with ; she measured the 
 lace with her finger, and said there were twenty 
 yards ; she cut oli three yards to make herself a 
 collar and cuffs. . 
 
 I had the lace in my hand ; it was the most beau- 
 tiful lace 1 had seen since I came from Nevr York ;, 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 it would cost at least twenty dollars a yard there. I 
 said, " If it is not too dear, I will buy enough like 
 it to make me a collar." She ottered io cut me 
 enough from the piece, but I would not take it ; she 
 then olfered to cut me a small pattern, which I ac- 
 cex>ted, so that I might get laco exactly the same ; I 
 liave the pattern here ; it is cut a little across, Mrs. 
 Smith cut it so to preserve the pattern ; if it is the 
 same lace, the one will join in ^ ' 'i the other." 
 
 The witness opened her pocket book, which she 
 handed to a man, by Avhoni it was in turn given to 
 those who had the stolen things by them ; my eyes 
 followed it with hungry eagerness ; I saw as well as 
 if it had been in my hand, a piece of lace pinned on 
 one of the pages of paper, which, in the form of a daily 
 remembrancer, occupied part of the pocket book ; it 
 was taken from the paper and put beside the lace, the 
 pleased murmur which ran through the court telling 
 that it matched exactly, and fitted into the cut end of 
 the piece on the hook, as the American lady had said 
 it would. 
 
 She resumed — '* Mrs. Smith put the lace again on 
 the hook and locked it up in the desk, Mr. Smith 
 came in to ])reakfast and went out again before twelve 
 o'clock, the hour my husband comes in to dinner. 
 
 •' I told my husband about the lace, and he bid me 
 ask Mrs. Smith to let him see it. I did so, and when 
 she opened the desk for the i^urpose, it was gone !" 
 
 The witness ^vas nsked why she did not give her 
 evidence sooner ? She replied, she had come to the 
 
THE GRAND GOIIDONS. 
 
 607 
 
 court for amusement ; Mrs. Smilli was with her, and 
 objected to the evidence beinj:^ given until she left 
 the court ; the crowd was so druse, it was not until 
 the verdict vras pronounced and a few of the people 
 went away, Mrs. Smith could force her way out. 
 
 The witness was examined as to Smith's appearance, 
 and gave an exact description of Captain Percy, 
 ad<ling " He was here the whole morning ; I saw 
 him leave the court after the verdict was pronounced." 
 
 I heard a man's voice say, speaking as one would 
 who had the power over such things, " Let him be 
 apprehended at once." There was a slight movement 
 among the ollicials, and then a commotion about the 
 door, a voice, which seemed familiar, called aloud — 
 
 " I demand to be put in the witness box ; I have 
 evidence to give in the case of Miss St. Clare." 
 
 It was the tall chemist, Mr. Leith's clerk. lie 
 described what the reader already knows. Captain 
 Percy having gone to his master's shop to inquire if 
 lliey knew my name, and of obtaining information of 
 his having done so in one or two other places. He 
 then said — 
 
 " On the ninth of October, I left home to travel for 
 my master's business; on going into my boarding 
 house in order to pack my clothes, I saw the gentle- 
 man, who I had before seen and spoken to in the 
 store, and who I thought must be a lover of Miss St. 
 Clare, walk up stairs before me, and enter Miss St. 
 Clare's room, talk to Jenny the servant for a second 
 
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 508 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 or two, and then dismissing hor, shut and lock the 
 door. 
 
 ** This excited my curiosity, and quietly mounting^ 
 on the top of my clothes bureau, I looked into the 
 next room through an open stove pipe hole. There 
 I saw what convinced me in my opinion as to his 
 being a lover of Miss 8t. Clare ; he was kneeling in 
 front of a large trunk, and taiving Irom a valise ho 
 carried in his hand, a piece ol black silk, some white 
 gloves and other little things, put them into the 
 trunk, shut and locked it ; to my surprise putting 
 the bunch of keys, with one of which he locked the 
 trunk, into his pocket! He then poured water in the 
 basin, threw the towel on the floor, and unlocking 
 the door, went olF, leaving his valise in Jenny's care, 
 to be ffiven to Mrs. Dunbar." 
 
 Mr. Clement vv'^as cross-examined; he gave a 
 description of Captain Percy's person in nearly the 
 same terms as Mrs. Elder, the American lady, had 
 done ; the reason he had not volunteered his evidence 
 before, was, he only returned from his commercial 
 tour an hour before, and on his entering the store 
 was told by Mr. Lcith who had been in court, during 
 the trial of Miss St. Clare, that she was accused of 
 stealing from Moir and Strong's those very articles 
 he had seen put into her trunk. 
 
 Mr. Moir now came forward, accompanied by the 
 boy I had seen fall from the ladder the last day 
 I was free to w^alk w^hither I would The boy had 
 been very ill since he took the fit which I had seen ; 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 509 
 
 "had been in the country at his father's house, and 
 only returned to his employment that morning. Mr. 
 Moir had not seen the boy, nor known that he was 
 at all cognizant of the theft, until a few minutes 
 before ; he had then taken a cab and driven with all 
 speed to the court house. 
 
 The boy's evidence was to the effect, that while 
 turning round on the ladder to ask me some question 
 with regard to the handkerchiefs, he saw a gentleman, 
 whom he also described as Captain Percy, take two 
 rolls of ribbon which lay close to each other, from 
 the box on the counter, and as he did so, let his hand 
 Ml down close by my side. lie called out stop thief, 
 the next moment ho had fallen in a fit, and hurt his 
 head so severely that for a week he was unconscious 
 of anything ; he afterwards heard that some one had 
 been arrested for stealing those ribbons, and concluded 
 that it was the one he had seen take them. 
 
 There w^as a murmur of talking up there among 
 the law^yers ; in some w^ay, I cannot remember how, 
 I knew that I was free ; there were voices talking to 
 me ; close by, a man spoke in tones softened down 
 and low, his hand was on my arm ; a woman's sweet 
 clear voice like cheerful music ; I knew not who 
 they were ; I was struggling to be free and fancied 
 T could get out of the prisoner's dock where I stood 
 by the front ; I would not turn to the side, as they 
 wished me to do ; the sea of heads — the judge and 
 jury — began to surge in great waves back and forth, 
 up and down — and then on a sudden, whirl with 
 
 n ; 
 
' ! 
 
 
 t 
 
 610 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 intense velocity round me, as I stood, my bands 
 clinging to the front of the dock, with convulsive 
 energy — I heard a wild rush of waters as if the great 
 St. Lawrence was flowing with leaping waves through 
 the house ; this was the last sound which came to 
 my car, the last image on my brain ; for weeks I 
 knew no other. 
 
 
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 ■.Vi 
 
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 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 ,^mN the second of November, by eight in the 
 'wgljr morning, Captain Percy, accompanied by the 
 ^•^ Indian, arrivcnl in Montreal. They were driven 
 to a Canadian hotel in St, Joseph street, and there 
 Captain Percy ordered a private room, with breaklast 
 for two, served at dillerent tables. 
 
 The Indian ate long and heartily, Captain Percy 
 tired with a journey of four days, during which he 
 had not been in bed, sat leisurely sipping his coffee, 
 and looking at a morning paper ; now that he was 
 sure his wife could no longer be withheld from him, 
 his nervous restlessness had departed. 
 
 Miss vSt. Clare safe in jail, the Indian here to 
 identify him as the person who had given him charge 
 of Tiny, he could afford to wait and rest for an hour ; 
 ere mid day he hoped to be on his way up the Ottawa, 
 conducting Tiny to her home among Pagan savages. 
 
 His eye fell on a paragraph entitled cases before 
 the High Court, and first on the list was The Queen 
 versus lluth St. Clare. 
 
 " My good luck comes all of a htap io-day,'* 
 exclaimed he, slapping his hand on his leg, in a 
 
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 TlIK (UlAND GORDONS. 
 
 maniior ho would have boon shockod to have been 
 aocusod of two years previous. As ho sunk in the 
 social scale his habits accommodated themselves to 
 his posilioii. 
 
 " I will go and see Miss Impudence ronsinrned to Iho 
 late she so richly deserv«'s ; I hope she will get 
 Iburteen years, and 1 will have the happiness of 
 informing !Miss Tiny of tlie frei^ board and lodging 
 her friend is to have at the Queen's exi>ense." 
 
 " You can lie down and have a sleej) for an hour 
 •or two," said he to the Indian. " You are tired, and 
 I have a little busim^ss to transact ])elbro I go to 
 bring my sister iVom the convent," and snatching vip 
 his hat, he hurriedly left the room, taking care how- 
 ever to lock the door and put the key in his pocket, 
 lest his friend .Tosei^h, as the Canadians in St. Martin's 
 iised to call Mamondagokwa, should give him the slip. 
 
 " I will be back again in an hour or two," said 
 Captain Percy to the landlord, as he passed the bar 
 room on his way out, " 1 have locked in the Indian 
 I brought with me to in'cvent his losing himself in 
 my absence." 
 
 The landlord nodded acquiescence, and his guest 
 hurried towards the court house, fearful lest he 
 should lose the sight of the misery he had caused, 
 and which he now hoped to gloat over in his triumph. 
 
 The reader is aware of the way he took to show 
 the poor prisoner at the bar that he rejoiced in her 
 misery, lie saw Abby there with lieT American 
 friend, but he kept in a part of the crowd where she 
 
THE ORAND GORDONS. 
 
 618 
 
 could not see him ; hrs meant to go to his hoarding 
 house helbro ho left Montreal, in case his long 
 expected letter had arrived, he wiHhed to tell Ahhy 
 ho had only juKt come into town, and that his 
 business would take him away again for some time» 
 but if his letter was awaiting him, then he would 
 bring her to New York in a few days. 
 
 The whole of the evidence was exactly what ho 
 could have wished, the sentence " Guilty " came in 
 due course, and perfectly satisfied now that he 
 believed the face that had troubled him all the long 
 summer and fall, must be hid in the penitentiary for 
 ut least seven years, he left the court-house rejoicing. 
 
 On his way in search of the Indian, Captain Percy 
 called at the post office. 
 
 *' Yes. There was a letter for him, a registered 
 letter, which had arrived by this day's mail from 
 l']ngland; it had been sent to his address half an 
 hour ago." 
 
 This was good news. It was the long looked for 
 loiter which was to bring him a hundred pounds. 
 How pleased he was to hear this. With what different 
 feelings he would handle that bill to the sullen way 
 in which he used to receive from Tiny four times 
 the amount, as she gave it to him from her mother's 
 letter. • , 
 
 He would have liked to go and receive his letter 
 
 now, but he knew it waa still in the postman's hands, 
 
 who must have refused to leave it at the house. 
 
 Abby was at the court. No one could sign the 
 
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 li 
 
 614 
 
 THE ORAND GORDONS. 
 
 register book and receive the letter, except himseli' 
 or Mrs. ^mith ; his letters were addressed " Captain 
 Percy, care Mrs. Smith." In his far ofF English home, 
 Mrs. Smith was understood to be the person with 
 whom he boarded. 
 
 It was an annoyance, but the word Gkilft/ had put 
 him in such good humor, this small inconvenience 
 did not trouble him. 
 
 "When will the postman return here with the 
 letter ? I am anxious to have it as soon as possible." 
 
 " lie will not bring it here again ; he will call at 
 your place on his return, as he comes dow^n the 
 street ; if you do not go home until one o'clock it 
 will be waiting you." 
 
 This would do — his j^lan was formed, his brain 
 w^as fertile in such things ; lie would leave Tiny in 
 the cab a few doors off in charge of the cab-man ; he 
 had all along intended to put her under the influence 
 of chloroform, " to prevent " as he sapiently observed 
 to himself, " any unpleasant demonstration by Mistress 
 Tiny on finding herself again leaving Montreal with 
 all the pleasant reminiscences of her former seclusion 
 from the constraint of civilized life, fresh in her 
 mind ;" thus then she would wait his return, while 
 he secured his precious letter, and ere midnight they 
 would be many miles from Montreal. 
 
 He now made the best of his way to St. Joseph 
 street, where in the little Canadian Hotel he found 
 the Indian still fast asleep. Joseph was soon aroused 
 and made to understand w here he was, and what he 
 
THE GRAND GOllDONS. 
 
 '■)ir 
 
 dli> 
 
 was wanted to do. While they are on their way to 
 the Convent, we shall introdnce our render nuain to 
 the tall stranger who so suddenly accosted Captain 
 Percy at the Indian's willow pit. 
 
 The tall stranirer was in ^Montreal, walkino: ahout 
 
 streets he had not seen lor lii'teen years, wonder 
 
 ni; 
 
 he looked at the transCi 
 
 hicli 
 
 as ne looKea at ine irai 
 where met his eye ; the simple wooden Imildini^s he 
 had seen when last here were "one, their places 
 occupied by handsome stone edifices, each to his eye 
 seeming some public })uilding; the polishec) granite 
 pillars, with their carved base and capitol, rivalling 
 those which adorn the cities of old Europe. 
 
 " I will rest here a month or two," said the stranger 
 mentally, as he a\ alked along the streets lull of 
 unknown faces. " AVrite home and wait for the 
 answer w^hich will tell me all that has hai)pened at 
 Jiockgirtisle these many long years; I dare say they 
 think me dead; 1 should have gone home to see 
 them long ago, yet perhaps it is better as it is ; I am 
 bringing home what in Scotland will be considered 
 almost i'abulous riches, how glad my father will be 
 when he reads the name subscribing my letter ; I 
 can see the terrs in my mother's eyes as she reads 
 the w^ords which tell that lieddv is alive and cominir 
 home. And pretty Tiny and little liit Artty, the 
 dear little fellow, how^ he used to scream for joy 
 when 1 tossed him around my head." 
 
 " Yes, I must hear they are all alive and w^ell 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 l)oforo I go liomo ; it would bo no homo for mo if 
 thore was ono missing ; how strange that in all tho 
 past years the thought of this never troubled me as 
 it does now ; T would give all my hard won gold to 
 be at home and to clasp my lather's hand, and hear 
 my mother's voice say 'Iveddy,' as in the old time ; 
 it makes me shake like a girl when I think that 
 instead of soft words, a bright welcome, I may walk 
 through empty halls echoing to my own tread alone." 
 
 A week passed by; tho stranger had hired a 
 furnished house above fSherbrooke street, on the brow 
 of the mountain, the residence of a gentleman who 
 had gone to make the tour of Europe with his wile 
 njid daughters. 
 
 Keginald Gordon, for the stranger was no other 
 tlian Lady Gordon's eldest son, so long unheard from, 
 unheard of, that for long years his name had been 
 spoken with a hushed voice, and the lineaments ot 
 his face recalled with the pained heart and unrest, 
 with which wc think of those we shall never see 
 
 agam. 
 
 He had sent a cablegram and two long loving 
 letters addressed to a father who was sleeping tho 
 sleep which knows no waking. 
 
 lie was in front of tho Convent of The Holy Cross, 
 looking up at the great building, and thinking what 
 a terrible punishment it would be to liiui > if, \Nho 
 led and so loved a free life ii >pen air, to be 
 
 shut up within those dull den ookino; w; -s, the 
 I>)nderous gate, with its great jion cuds, which 
 
THE GRAND OdrvDOXS. 
 
 517 
 
 ■ 1 
 
 n 
 
 Beomed too heavy to turn on hintyos, however strong. 
 Little did he think us he looked, what deep interest 
 those p:reat thiek walls, that enormous ^nio, had for 
 him. That his lil'e of travel and exile had all tended 
 to one point, his return home had been hindered 
 from year to year, beeanso he was needed there, 
 wilhin that convent, that day, that very hour ! 
 
 As he stood in front of the gate a postern door 
 suddenly opened, and a gentleman, dressed in the 
 uniform of an olhcer of the guards, accompanied by 
 a man servant, came out from the convent. 
 
 Both gentlemen stared at each other ; they were tall 
 men, each of them over six feet, large and strongly 
 built. 
 
 A memory from his young life came like a tone of 
 half forgotten music over the heart of Reginald 
 Gordon, as he looked on the face of the officer, and 
 v.alking up to him, he said, holding up his hand — 
 
 " AVill you shake hands with me, stranger ?"' 
 
 The officer stared as he rei^lied — 
 
 " Why should I do so ?" 
 
 *' Because it is not every day you meet a man of 
 your own size. I do not think I have spoken to one 
 so large as myself since I last saw Hugh and Harry 
 iSeaton ; if my memory is not playing tricks with me, 
 I am speaking to one or the other now." 
 
 *' You are indeed speaking to Hugh Seaton,'* 
 replied the officer, gazing w^ith w^ondering eyes in 
 the face of the one Avho had accosted him so uncere- 
 

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 518 
 
 THK (IRANI) (ioKDONS. 
 
 
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 moiiiously, niid knew liis iinrno in a land ^vho^o he 
 wa« an Piilirc slraniivr, and had only arrived a low 
 days bd'ori* with his troo]> slii}». " And as you have 
 the advani:ii»o of nie, nnd knew who I am, it is but 
 lair you sliould tell jue who it is who knows l[ui>h 
 Scaton's taee, in this lar oil' Canada, so many miles 
 across the sea from our >!cottish home. Your spi^ech 
 tells me you are my countryman V'' 
 
 "So you dont kiu)W me, Ihmli?" My hunter's 
 life must have chunked me more than your soldierin«>- 
 has altered you; you have quite forgotten big lleddy 
 who usud lo light your battles for you." 
 
 " Ivegiuidd Gordon! it cannot be" — said ]\Iajor 
 Seaton, his face exj)ressing surprise, hope, fear, as 
 each emotion alternately swayed his mind. "It is 
 too good news to be trut^ — and yet it must be so — 
 yes, it is you, lieddy — your mother's tSeaton face — 
 where have you been all these long years ? it was 
 surely CJod who sent you here." 
 
 " I hope so. I have still enough left of my mother's 
 teaching to have no wish to go where God does not 
 send mo. Now before I answer your qu(\stion as to 
 where I have been all these long years, you must 
 tell me when you last saw and h(Mrd of my father 
 aiul mother, " pretty Tiny " as we used to call In^r, 
 and little Artty, and IMarion, and old James Forest 
 the game-keeper, and every body at home. 1 am 
 this far on my way to see them — I wrote long letters 
 home a week ago, and telegraphed by that wonderful 
 cable this morning to my lather." 
 
THE ORAND GORDONS. 
 
 519 
 
 Here was a task for ITngh Soatoii, w ith his large, 
 loving, tender heart to perlbrni ; he well remembered 
 Kcddy Gordo)i, the hoy, j)etting and feeding a sick 
 Newfoundland dog for weeks, leading his horse ion 
 miles through muddy country roadn, in rain and 
 darkness, because ho had discovered that the animal 
 was slightly footsore; he was now a strong msin, 
 with all his aifections grown stronger, with his strong 
 manhood ; how was he to bear being told that the 
 father, whose hand he longed to grasp, and to whom 
 he had telegraphed that morning, in the fond faith 
 that the living man might even now be reading tho 
 lightning carried words, the loving heart rejoicing, 
 " my son was dead and is alive again," that this 
 father had twelve years before, in the prime of life, 
 in ripe manhood, been laid down where his fore- 
 iathers slept, in the mausohmm at Kockgirtisle ; and 
 his gentle mother, the one whom as a boy he loved 
 the best, that she too, o'erwearied with the strife, 
 had folded her pale hands on her breast, and 
 closed her tired eyes on this earth for evermore; 
 and worse than all, a thousand fold worse than 
 death in any shape, that Tiny, the light of the 
 old home, tho darling of the old house, that she, 
 the prey of a sordid villain for years, worse used 
 by him than the veriest scoundrel uses his dog, 
 had been brought to the convent they now stood 
 by, to lill a i)auper's bed, and was every moment 
 in danger of being again carried off by the wretch 
 who called her his wife, that to hide his crime 
 of bigamy, she might be again immured among 
 
 
 V''' 
 
 
620 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 savages, perhaps to make his wretohed existence 
 more safe, a grave made, which on a certain day and 
 hour he had doomed her to fill. 
 
 " I have a long story to tell you, Reginald — Tiny 
 is in that building ; she is threatened with a fate 
 "worse than death by him who swore before God to 
 protect her from all ill. I have tried in vain to save 
 her from her brutal husband, who, we know, arrived 
 in Montreal by this morning's train from Ottawa^ 
 accompanied by the man who i^laced her here ; wealth 
 or power are alike unable to save her from his 
 clutches ; naught but the tie of blood will avail ; she 
 is sunk in a lethargy, so deep, that she is unable to 
 laise her voice in her own defence ; half an hour 
 since I was told * bring her brother here, we will 
 deliver her to him,' and so God has sent you, whom 
 we all thought dead, to save her." 
 
 " Where is my father ? I cannot understand you ; 
 Tiny here, ill, and in danger of her life ! what can 
 be the meaning of all this ? Explain yourself." 
 
 Major Seaton rung the convent bell. The grating 
 was opened ; he said a few words, and was at once 
 admitted by the postern door. 
 
 " Come here, Reginald," said Major Seaton, " I will 
 do my best to tell you all, but it cannot be told out 
 there. That young man is a brother of Marion's ; he 
 was sent to Canada by the same Providence that sent 
 you." As he spoke, he signified by an inclination of his 
 head, that ho spoke of the lad who was with him 
 when he so fortunately encountered the stranger of 
 the willow pit. 
 
existence 
 1 day and 
 
 Jd— Tiny 
 ith a fate 
 re God to 
 in to save 
 iv, arrived 
 a. Ottawa, 
 e ; wealth 
 from his 
 avail; she 
 unable to 
 if an hour 
 •e, we will 
 rou, whom 
 
 tand you ; 
 
 what can 
 
 ■self." 
 
 e grating 
 
 as at once 
 
 , " I w^ill 
 
 told out 
 
 rion's; he 
 
 that sent 
 
 Ition of his 
 
 Iwith him 
 
 Iranger oi 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 52t 
 
 "With a few words to the prioress, who Major 
 Seaton had asked to see, they were admitted into the 
 reception room, the Prioress saying to Major Seaton^ 
 as they entered — 
 
 " Father Paul is in the chapel and will remain for 
 an hour or two, so as to be here when Smith comes.'* 
 
 " I have little to say that will give you pleasure 
 Jleginald," Major Seaton began, as soon as the nun 
 had left them. " I have only to tell of trouble and 
 sorrow, but your presence here will effect so much 
 good that the knowledge of this should amply com- 
 pensate for the pain which my tidings will cause." 
 
 " Say on, Hugh. I already know that Tiny is here ; 
 if you tell me my father and mother and Artty are 
 safe and well, I will not grieve much, although 
 Ilockgirtisle Castle be under the sea instead of on the 
 rocky height above it, or the old house at Leith, 
 where w^e were all born and bred, be burned to the 
 ground." 
 
 " Rockgirtisle Castle and Hall both stand as fast as 
 ever, and to human eyes they look as if they would 
 last as long as the water of Leith flows to the sea ; 
 but the loving eyes that first looked on you there» 
 and the hands which grasped yours while the fond 
 heart said * good-bye, good-bye my son,' have thrown 
 off forever the sorrows of this life, and lain down to 
 sleep." 
 
 The tale is told,the hard task over. Keginald Gordon 
 knows that he will never more see either father or 
 mother's face, until the dead, small and great, stand 
 
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 522 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 before God ; that the long loiters which he intended 
 should speak so fondly, and Vv hich when he awoke in 
 the silent night he thought over, forming each sen- 
 tence with snch love and care, that the WTitten words 
 the blessed messengers, might speak from heart to 
 heart, and yet when the morrow came with its day- 
 light, the song of birds, and men's hearty kind voices, 
 the letter was put olF until to-morrow and to-morrow ; 
 and now, alas ! that to-morrow could never come. 
 
 lie knovrs also how Bertram Percy came to 
 blight Margaret Gordon's young life, in Scottish 
 parlance " to cast the glamour o'er her," sometimes 
 we are almost tempted to believe there are such 
 things, when we see a young and gentle girl leaving 
 a luxurious home, of which she is the glory and 
 the darling, to follow a man ' until death do them 
 part,' who has little else to recommend him, save a 
 facility of whispering honeyed words, the power to 
 shine amid dance and song. 
 
 Ixoginald Gordon stood a silent listener, with 
 compressed lip and hardened brow, while he was 
 told how "pretty Tiny's " soft peach chock paled, 
 and her downcast eye told the unrest ot heart which 
 so surely cnme when the sad conviction forced itself 
 upon her, that her husl^and, the one she had married, 
 Muh^rc all her kith and kin, was a gamester, a 
 blackleg, and at last, woe, woe, a low drinking cheat, 
 the companion of men who would not dare defile by 
 their presence, the threshold of he^* mother's house. 
 
 How in hopes that her love might win him from 
 
THE GRAND GOIIDONS. 
 
 523 
 
 his low ways, she had cono with him to India, how 
 the lyinir villain had from hence written an account 
 of her death, and come to tScotland himself to corrobo- 
 rate the tale, and try to extort money from Ijady 
 Gordon for the possession of his children. 
 
 Of his comini^ a second time, when he -was aware 
 of her ladyship's death, accompanied by a woman, 
 whose name was entered in the gWQst book at Kay's 
 Hotel as Mrs. Percy, when all the while his true 
 wife was the inmate of an Indian's hut, bui'ied in the 
 wild bush land of Canada. 
 
 And then came the startlini^ account of the 
 wonderful assurance which was given to Lady 
 Crordon, and ^vhich never for one moment failed her, 
 that Tiny wns alive, prompting her in life to go to 
 distant India to find her child, and on her deathbed 
 to make provision for another going in her stead. 
 
 Of the almost miraculous discovery mad<3 in Kay's 
 Hotel through the woman Captain INn'cy called his 
 wife, of Tiny having been iirst brought to New- York 
 and again to Montreal, where the woman was told 
 .she had died. 
 
 And last of all, how Major Seaton himself had 
 come out with his regimtMit only two days previous, 
 to iind on coing to the address of Miss St. Clare, who 
 had been sent out in accordance with Lady Gordon's 
 will to bearch for Tiny^ that she had left her boarding 
 house three weeks previously, and that the people of 
 the hour;e either could not or would not tell what had 
 becom*^ of her. 
 
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 11 ! 
 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 or his having: only that morniiifr met Samly 
 MitchoU at the IJonaventuro Itailroad station, who 
 pointed out to him Caplain Percy, accompanied l)y 
 an Indian, who had just arrived by the train, k^arn- 
 inj? at the same time that Mrs. Percy was alive, and 
 was now in ihe Convent of The Holy Cross, and 
 that Sandy Mitchell was employed there, saw and 
 .••poke to her every day. 
 
 Of his hnvinq" gone at once to the Convent, and 
 heing told by the prioress, that Captain Percy n/iaa 
 Mr. Smith was expected every day, to claim the lady 
 now in the Convent, whom Miss 8t. Clare and Sandy 
 Mitchell called Mrs. Percy, Imt who had been placed 
 there by the Indian as of the name of Smith, and 
 that when Smith came back, accompanied by tlie 
 Indian, .Toseph Chartreux, they would be obliged to 
 deliver the invalid up to him, unless one who could 
 prove himself a brother or some near relative, was 
 there to claim her. 
 
 For some minutes after Major Seaton ceased 
 speaking. Sir Keg'inald Gordon sat as if stupilied by 
 the various emotions to which the sad recital he had 
 been listening to had gn'en rise ; at last suddenly 
 starting up, he said — ^ 
 
 *' That unhanged villain may be here at any 
 moment, and these ladies of The Holy Cross will no 
 doubt require some stronger testimony than yotirs 
 who have brought me here to prove to them I am 
 the person you say I am ; if you will carry a message 
 to the nearest telegraph office, I will send to Lachine 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 525 
 
 for Sir George ^i^impson ; he will, I know, come here 
 immediately, and his identilication of me will bo 
 sullicient ; I dare not leave this myself until I take 
 lay sister with me." 
 
 lie had scarcely ceased speakinj^, when Monsieur 
 l*aiil, the priest, entered the receiving room. 
 
 "Mr. Gordon." 
 *' Priest Paul." 
 
 Came simultaneously in accents equally suggestive 
 of surprise and pleasure from the lips of both 
 gentlemen, who recognized each other at once, having 
 Iwice, in an interval of eleven years, been thrown 
 together, first for several weeks, the last time for 
 upwards of three months. 
 
 •' You have come here most opportunely," said Sir 
 Reginald, who we must now call by the title, which 
 although his, was unclaimed, unthought of, for so 
 many long years. " I am here to claim possession of 
 my sister, and to save her from a bigamist, who once 
 had a right to call her his wife ; you of all men can 
 best testify to the superior of this Convent that I am 
 llic one I say I am, Sir Charles Gordon of Rockgirtisle's 
 soil, and Keginald Gordon the hunter of the iar west." 
 
 " I can indeed do all you say, and it is with feelings 
 o' gratitude to God and the blessed Virgin I see you 
 Ihmo, and listen to you calling the unfortunate lady 
 upstairs your sister. Since the first day I saw her I 
 was deeply interested in her, and knew she was in a 
 false position ; this interest was increased sevenfold 
 when I heard Miss St. Clare say that she was the 
 
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 THE (MlANl) (JOIJDONH. 
 
 tlanulilcrorLiulydonlonoriJockiiirtish' ; h\\\ liiUcrly, 
 siii('t» ] ln'cnino awnro of Iho iinroiluualc posilioii in 
 which Mi.ss St. (Mavo lias ])la('('(l licrN*'!!', i)Mrli<'ularlv 
 ai'lcr I lu'avd ihat ^Ir. Morion of JOdiiihurirh liad 
 h('(Mi horc, niul slopped Ihc Miniiii*' Coiupany's liaiik 
 IVoui sui)plyiiiij;' lu'i* with moro inoin»v, 1 hi'naii to 
 i'car that her motive in representini»" tlie invaUd to 
 ho Mrs. IVrcy, was wliat. Smith said it was, a (h.'ep 
 desiii-n on tlie part oi" an adventuress to imi>ose a. 
 slrannvr who })oro a likeness to the (Jordon I'amily, 
 upon them, as one v, lioni tlu'y mourned as dead." 
 
 "Of what is Miss St. Clare neeused ? Mr. Morton 
 has stopped her money supi>lies ! Inipossihle, he dare 
 not do so," exelaimed Major Sealon. " Jiohert Morton 
 has never been in Canada, and if he was, ho has no 
 power whatever over that money." 
 
 "jSIiss St. Clare is in jail accused of shop llioft, Mr. 
 ^Morton was in Moiureal over three weeks since, and 
 neither saw nor communicated in any way with ]\iiss 
 St. Clare, hut went to the Scottish ]\lininL»- Company's 
 J>ank, and ordered the cashier to honor no more of 
 the youn<4' hidy's draft>^." 
 
 " I ha '. a letter from Ivohert Morton dated in Liver- 
 pool, exactly sixteen days back," said Major Sealou. 
 " lie had then never been in Canada, and had no 
 intention of coming hero. Captain Torcy is at tiio 
 bottom of all this, I have not the least doubt; he is 
 ca]>able of any villainy, and unfortunately his head 
 is quick to devise evil. I wish fror^ my heart he was 
 still in the army, that he might bo court-martialed 
 
I liiUiM-ly, 
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 vlicularlv 
 iirirh hnd 
 jy's IJaiiU 
 ht'Uiiii l(» 
 iivalid lo 
 as, a (l«M'p 
 iui]H)sc a 
 Dii ianiily, 
 dead." 
 
 r. Morion 
 1*^ ho dare 
 (rt Morion 
 
 lio has no 
 
 llioi'l, Mr. 
 inco, and 
 uqth Ai .ss 
 [onipany's 
 more oi' 
 
 in Livor- 
 ►r Sealon. 
 had )io 
 lis at (ho 
 l)t ; ho is 
 Ihis hoad 
 •t he was 
 lartialed 
 
 TIIR (JIIANI) <U)RI)ONS. 
 
 .527 
 
 and lanhed iM'fore ]>oing given over to the civil antliori- 
 
 niVHo 
 
 If 
 
 ties. I 
 
 Tiio door of tlio htth"! entraneo chiini))er opened, 
 and Jtobert Gor(h)n, accompanied by Jtohert Morton, 
 entered the room ! 
 
 Huu:li Seaton's faee l)ecamo radiant with joy an ho 
 saw them enter ; the chiver hiwyer, the man whom 
 lie in his heart believed to ]iav(^ the most acute brsiin 
 in Scotland, one too who loved Tiny as a very brother ; 
 if any one could foil Captain I'ercy with his own 
 weapons of the law, he knew that one was Uobert 
 Morton. 
 
 And Artty, the boy who had heo.n the pet and 
 playthinir of all Tiny's years of girlhood, the one of all 
 others, who, by leadini*' her thoughts to the timo 
 v.'hon there were no troubh^d waters in her lil'e, 
 would be most likely to bring- pi 'ace to her over- 
 charged mind and brain ; if he had the choice of every 
 one in broad (Scotland to come to Canada at that 
 moment, these were the two he would have chosen. 
 
 The soldier and lawyer met as men do who have 
 a perfect trust in each other. 
 
 There is naught in all this world so strong as the 
 tie of blood. " Brothers are brothers evermore." Tho 
 boy and the grown man gazed each in the face of the 
 other for a second or two, and then the elder, goings 
 up to the boy, placed a hand on either of his shoulders 
 as if he would lilt him by his arm, saying as he did so 
 
 " Change, Artty." 
 
 This was a sort of pass word, by which, when 
 
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 28 
 
 THE GUAND OORDONS. 
 
 Artty was a boy of wx years, Koji^iiiald used to inti- 
 iimlo to Iho cliild that he was goins- to toss him round 
 Jiis head and set him on his shoulders ; the words, 
 th(i voice, and action were magical. Artty was a 
 ha]>py child ngain at Kockgirtisle, carried about on 
 Keddy's shoulders ; his arms were round the tall man 
 ill a moment, while he called aloud in accents which 
 thrilled with joy — 
 
 " Keddy, Keddy, my big brother !" 
 
 A loud ring at the convent gate. Why does Father 
 3\iul hurry from the little vestibule, his lips white as 
 Avith some deep emotion, and why does the hot 
 blood rush to Hugh Seaton's face and his black eyes 
 ilash lire ? Is there some subtle fluid pervading the 
 atmosphere which tells men when danger, or an 
 enemy — one they hate, is near ? 
 
 Father Paul motioned to the lay nun who usually 
 attended the grating to allow him take her place, and 
 8tei)ping up, opened it himself, seeing as he did so 
 Captain Percy and the Indian on the other side. 
 
 " I come for my sister," said the former, in a rude 
 impetuous voice. " 8end her out to me — a carriage 
 waits to bring her away — you know this man ; you 
 saw him the morning he brought her here." 
 
 •' I know the Indian, Joseph Chartreux, well, but 
 my knowing him or he having brought the invalid 
 lady here cannot make me sure that i/ou have a right 
 io remove her from the protection of the good nuns 
 with whom she is placed, and they, not I, must 
 decide if she is able to bear the journey or not." 
 
THE GRAND OOIIDONS. 
 
 529 
 
 Captain Percy's roply \vas chnractoiistic of tho 
 man — 
 
 " Tho woman is a rrotostaiifc; if slie is not given 
 up to mo within llic liour, I will I)!!!!!*- a mo)) round 
 your Convent who will l>urn it to tho ground." 
 
 Tlio priest opened tlie postern door, and signinir 
 to l)oth (^iptain Percy and tlio Indian to como in, 
 admilted tliem, nnd then carerullyclosini? nnd l)oltinij 
 tho door, preceded the otliers into the entrance 
 <;ham})or. 
 
 Captain Percy gazed around on tho occupants of 
 tho little receiving room, with mingled feelings of 
 astonishment, rage, and latent fear. Major Heaton, 
 Mr. Morton, and Tiny's brother, the three men ho 
 most hated on this earth, Tho tall stranger he had 
 met at the Indian's willow pit ! lie asked himself the 
 question, " what could bring these men together, 
 and of all other places, in tho entrance chamber of 
 the Convent whore Mrs Percy was an hospital patient, 
 and he himself must have been expected, day by 
 day, for a fortnight back ?" 
 
 He needed not to be told that these men bein"" 
 met together, augured no good for him ; he saw ho 
 Avould have a battle to fight single handed against 
 them all, but he would do it manfully and unscru- 
 pulously ; he knew before-hand lie wovild have the 
 worst of it now, but he swore a great oath that he 
 should have his revenge deep and life long. 
 
 As the priest, aocompanied by Captain Percy and 
 
 Ihe Indian, entered the room, Mr. Morton said a few 
 
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 "NvorIh to l\o^iiial(l ("jonloii, ^vlu^ at <»nt'o HtopiM'd 
 i'orwavil, and atUlroNHinir Capluiii IN'rcy, Kai<l — 
 
 " ]Trt ! my IVioiul of tlio Indian's willow \t'\i, what 
 lias l)ron,i»lit you ln»r»3 ?" 
 
 "What is your buNinois.s ?" was lli(» r(>ply, with u 
 rudo Ntaro. 
 
 "AVlion I toll you that I am Sir Koij^inald (Jordou 
 of ]\o<'kgirtislo, hrothor of th(» lady whoso hard futo 
 made hor your wilV, you w ill understand my iniort'st 
 in knowini^ what motive you havo for visiting >& 
 cloistorod convent, whore she now resides." 
 
 Cai)tain Torr'y saw what he at iirst suspected, that 
 they knew Mrs. Porey w as hero, and would if possihlo^ 
 prevent his taking possession of hor. lie would 
 brave it to the last, however ; they could know 
 nothing of Abby, that was impossible ; for all eluoho 
 must trust to his wits. 
 
 " I know no such person," said he, " as Sir Reginald 
 Gordon, but I suppose this is of a piece with mu.ny 
 other stories which have been attempted to be foisted 
 on me. Admitting however that you arc what you 
 say, what right does that give you to take a suj^ervi- 
 sion of my actions ? Ila ! I do remombor now of 
 hearing of a lost brother of my wife's, a ne'er-do-wel!, 
 as your mother used to call you ; so you have turned 
 up just at the nick of time, to help Seaton, Morton 
 and company in keeping my wife from me by brute 
 lorce, they knowing that right and law are on my 
 side. I want to have nothing to say to you." 
 
 Turning to the priest, he continued in the same 
 breath, " Pray bring me to Mrs. Smith." 
 
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 I - ■ 
 
 TIIK (JUANI) (JOKDONM. 
 
 r>'M 
 
 !■' 
 
 •' 1'hiN will )n»t do," n;ii<l Sir Ikri^iiiuld, ]n'\'(>ro IIim 
 prioNi hiul iiiiio to n-jdy. •' Ycm an^ a hi^^amiHl, 
 livinyf with aN(M>oii(l wit'«' in MoiHn>al ; do you itiinifiiin 
 ihai 1 will allow my niNtcr nc«^ or 8|MMik to nucIi iiii 
 ono ? mako tlin ln»Ht, uh(s oi' your tirn<? in ('H<'a|>inj; 
 i'roin Montreal; if to-morrow'N Kun lin<lH you Immv, [ 
 will havo you nrrrKlcd lor tlio crinn^ of which you 
 nro jruilty, and idl i\u\ inlluciKMi I am po.sM'KKod of 
 will ho us('d to have you conlincd in llu' penitentiary 
 for life." 
 
 " It is a lie, an infernid lie," thunch^red out Captiiin 
 Percy, his throat and liu-e dilated, and purphi with 
 rn^o. " 1 nt'ver was married except to Margaret 
 (Jonlon. 1 will leave this to her own <'vidcnce ; my 
 wile iis aK nnxious to )m» with me as I am to have licr 
 in my honn^ once more, ami if she is not at once 
 l»iven up to me, it will he at the ])eril of those w ho 
 keej) her." 
 
 " If you are not married," })rok(! in Mr. Morton, 
 " why did you enter the name of the womsni you 
 hrouj^ht to Kdinhurj^h last Sprinjj on Kay's lIotcL 
 hook, as your wife ?" 
 
 " I never did, — you Ho and you know you do ; 
 that lady was tlie wife of a friend of mine, who I 
 ])rought to lildinburgh, that she might meet lu^r 
 liusband, and accompany him to Ireland." 
 
 " Perhaps you can as readily explain your motive 
 for writing to my mother an account of my sister's 
 death, and coming to Edinlmrgh in mourning, with 
 a lie in your right hand, to corroborate the falsehood 
 in person," said Sir Reginald. 
 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 *' I had rea.soiis for tloini^ so, ^vhich I do not hold 
 myself bound to explain to any one." 
 
 " Possibly the same reason induced you to place 
 the lady in question in the hut of a savage for 
 upwards ol two years, and also to tell her that her 
 children were dead, and to offer a bribe to Joiunette, 
 the farmer at Isle Jesus, that he miuht take her into 
 his house and leave her to die of neglect," said 
 Kobert Morton, looking him quietly and steadily in 
 the face as he spoke. 
 
 The villain saw that he was trapped on every side ; 
 he half expected that Abby would next rise up to 
 confront him. "With a face livid and swollen with 
 rage, he Stutt.'red out, prefixing his words "with a 
 liorrible oath — 
 
 *' It is a coufspiracy ; it is a conspiracy to defraud 
 my wife and myself out of the house and money left 
 by my mother-in-law to my wife, but it there is law 
 or justice in the land, you shall all be punished as 
 you deserve. For the moment he forgot Major Beaton's 
 presence, and added in a loud voice and blustering 
 manner, " I shall teach one and all of vou what it 
 is to slander an ofRoer of the guards, iu order to take 
 his wife from him by force, and put her fortune into 
 the i)ockets of sordid needy brothers." 
 
 " Do not talk of yourself as an ollicer in any of Her 
 Majesty's regiments," said Major ISeaton. " You are 
 perfectly aware that you were dismissed the service 
 three years ago." . . 
 
 " And you shall be dismissed for lying against the 
 
TIIK (UJAND (SORDON*?. 
 
 character oi" your ])rotlior officer as soon as my letter 
 to the Horse Guards is received," he blustered out, 
 as he strode from the room, elbowing- the priest on 
 one side and the Indian on the other, in uoinp; out, 
 and making the vestibule ring with the slam he 
 gave the door. 
 
 Once inside the cab v/hioh he had brouirht in full 
 expectation of et^rrying away Tiny, he irave vent to 
 his rase, gnashing his teeth and stampincc his leet, 
 until the cabman, attracted ])y the latter noise, turne<l 
 round to know "if the gentleman wanted anything 
 
 *' 1 want you to drive quickly, not at a snnil's space,"' 
 was the surly response. 
 
 In a few minutes Captain Percy was in St. Catherine 
 street, thundering at the door of his boardinn' hou 
 
 On being admitted, he stalked straight to his o\\ u 
 room, the door of which, usually shut, he found wide 
 open. 
 
 As he entered, he stared in blank astonishment at 
 the scene which met his eye, drawt'rs wide oi)('n 
 w ardroi).* ditto both empty, his own desk, of which 
 Ii3 carefully kept the key, was wide open, the letter: 
 and papers it contained lying in the greatest confusion. 
 some of them on the table, the two checks which ht> 
 received from the (Jrand Trunk railway clerk, nwi 
 by v/hich alone he could claim Abby's second trunk, 
 or what was of more consequence, his own, contiiin- 
 ing all his best clothes, and which he kept in his 
 desk, were nowhere to be seen ! 
 
 AVhat could it all mean V he had left Abbv, louelher 
 
 .4jril 
 
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 534 
 
 THE GRAM) OORDuNfl. 
 
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 Avith her Araorictin frioiul, two hours before, in Cull 
 (Irt'ss ill the Court IIouro; he knew her loo well to 
 sui)pose she would return home until .she had heard 
 the very last case tried ; the only eonclusionho could 
 come to wnis that the landlady, tired of empty promises 
 instead of money for his own and Abby's board, had 
 ]>ut her threat into execution, of seizini** his own and 
 his wife's ell'ects. 
 
 ]re rang" the bell violently. 
 
 " Where is Mrs. ^Sui»'arspoon? tell her to come here 
 directlv, f want to speak with her." 
 
 *' Mrs. Sug-arspoon and the four youn^' ladies is all 
 <j:one out for the day, out a pleasuring* to Chambly, 
 gone by the six o'clock boat this morning', r^■^^ a 
 ]»asket full of sandwiches and bread, rolls and luid 
 boiled eggs, and a pot of" 
 
 " A pot of thunder," exclaimed Captain Percy, 
 rudely interrupting the girl. 
 
 "Oh! no, Sir, a pot" 
 
 " Where is Mrs. Smith r 
 
 " I dont know, Sir. She came home about twelve; 
 yes. Just twelve, for the postman was at the door, 
 and he always comes at twelve; she sent me lor a 
 cab. and went otf again in al)out half an hour, niul 
 took her Saratoga trunk, and her hand valise, and 
 her band box, and her parasol, leastways her silk 
 umbrella with her." 
 
 " Did she say where she was going?" 
 
 *' She did not, Sir, but just shook hands with me 
 

 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 53i 
 
 whon .slio was on the doorstep, quite gcntool and 
 3ik»» a Ijuly hs it was oa*. y s(mmi she was, and i>ut a 
 (loUar hill in my hand, and me never brushed a pair 
 •dI" boots lor her, for she always wore them ])oots as 
 is cleaned with paint, which I brushed many the 
 pair lor genth^inen as never gave me a trente-sauay 
 
 Captain Percy did not take the hint the girl wished 
 to eonvey, but instead, slammed the door in her lace. 
 She had scarcely reached ihe staircase, when ho 
 -called to her to come back. • 
 
 *' Did you say the postman came to-day ?" 
 *' Yes, iSir, just as Mrs. Percy came to the door ho 
 arrived with a letter for her, and I gave her the pen 
 out of the dining room to siirn the book, lor it was a 
 registered letter, and she said she was real glad to 
 get it." 
 
 *' You ar(^ sure she did not leave the letter with 
 any one for me ? It was my letter." 
 
 *' No, Sir, begging your pardon, it was not. I had 
 it in my baud when she signed the postman's book, 
 and I r«^ad the direction *' Captain Percy, care Mrs. 
 Smith," and Mrs. Smith said it was a letter for her 
 )>rother and herself, and she opened it in the parlor 
 and did not take time to read it, but she showed mo 
 two lifty pounds as was in the letter, as I think sho 
 said her mamma sent tc her, and says" 
 
 Captain Percy was again inside his own room and 
 "the door shut. '* Confound her," exclaimed he, as ho , 
 stamped up and down the room, "she's off, and myj 
 iiundred pounds in her hands ; I must telegraph ia 
 
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 THE GRANi) GOKDONS. 
 
 all directions to bring- her back, the impudent faggot^ 
 to dare to open my letters." 
 
 lie put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his 
 purse, that he might ascertain what money there was 
 left, and found to his dismay there was not quite a 
 dollar ! 
 
 lie .opened his dressing case, and had just taken 
 therefrom a few ornaments, the only things ho now 
 had which he could convert into money, when the 
 door opened, and Mr. tSharpquill entered, very quietly, 
 very cautiously. " My dear fellow, what keeps you 
 here ? have you not heard that the police are on 
 your track V" 
 
 Captain Percy stared ; the perspiration came out 
 in great drops on face and neck; he mentally asked 
 himself, had 8ir Keginald Gordon put his threat into 
 execution? and then turning to the lawyer — 
 
 " AVhat — what for ?" he stammered our. •' AVho is 
 my accuser J>ir Keginald Gordon ^" 
 
 " No," said the lawyer, with a slight elevation of 
 his eyebrows. " IIow could you come in contact with 
 Sir liegiuald Gordon? such small fry as you and I 
 don't cross his path, why man he's one of the big 
 bugs of the country ; an income of at least ilfty 
 thousand dollars a year ; entertains General JSir 
 Fenwick AVilliams, General and Lady Sarah Lindsay 
 aiul all the other great English folk ; that's the deuce 
 with this country as well as your own, all that a 
 fellow like you or me w ill be allowed to do or say to 
 the like of Sir llegiiuild is to give him a hat when we 
 
 ! fi 
 
THE (iKANl) (iolIDONS. 
 
 37 
 
 see him pass in his carriaire and pair. No, it's not Sir 
 Eeginald Gordon, but it's the Quoon's advocate, ^vllo 
 accuses you of shop lil'tinir, on the testimony of an 
 American woman who lodiyes here, and to whom Mrs. 
 tSmilh s]>ewed the lace Miss JSt. Chire was accused of 
 stealing. She had a piece in her pocket book your 
 wife cut otF for a pattern ; she told the lenu'lh of it to 
 an inch ; she had seen the silk and the aloves and 
 told the length of the one, the number of the others, 
 all right ; there were two other witnesses auainst you, 
 but the American was the worst ; if they get hold of 
 you, it's a fourteen years' case." 
 
 A loud rap at the outer door. Mr. Sharpquill 
 looked cautiously out at the side of the window. 
 •' It's them ! into the wardrobe with you." 
 
 Captain Percy stepped into the wardro])e which 
 was a large one, Mr. t^^harpcjuill shut and locked it, 
 and put the key in his pocket, then running swiftly 
 but quietly down stairs, met the servant girl on her 
 IMiy to the door. AVith one hand he touched her 
 shoulder, the oilier he pressed on his lips to enjoin 
 silence, and putting a half dollar in the girl's hand, 
 whispered in her ear— 
 
 *'Say what I say." . 
 
 The girl opened the door, while Mr. Sharpquill 
 appeared suddenly to l)e deeply interested in the 
 ui.5eful occupation of smoothing the i)ile of his hat ; 
 the work was one of superogation, seeing ihe pile 
 was completely worn olf. in fact had been so for the 
 last year, but being occupied so, looked as ii the man 
 
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 ^38 
 
 THE ORANP OORDONS. 
 
 wm noat and particular a])o\it his wearables, (which 
 however was not the ia<'t), and then standinj^ thus 
 with his face to the row ot hat pins, would naturally 
 make the policeman think that the gentleman was 
 just on his way out. 
 
 The door open, the policemen entered. Mr. Sharp- 
 quill opened his eyes wide, evincing the utmost 
 surprise. 
 
 " What's up ?" inquired he. " You dont want me, 
 do you ?" said with a self satisfied smile, which told 
 the beholders this was eimply impossible. 
 
 "Not exactly. Sir, but wo would like tc see a 
 gentleman who boards here, a low sized, fair haired 
 man by the name of Smith, or perhaj)s half a dozen 
 
 «/m.s"'- 
 
 •* "Why ! what has he done ? A drunken row, eh ?" 
 
 " No, Sir," replied the policeman, assuming an air 
 of great im}>ortance, *' more than that by a long 
 score, a grave crime, I may say two crimes at the 
 very least, shop-lifting in the first case, and next 
 imputing the same to another; its a fourteen year's 
 case, I'll answer." 
 
 " AVliew !" a long whew. — " I wish you may 
 
 catch him ; I have always had my suspicions of that 
 cove ; his pretence and importance are insufferable; a 
 married man with a good looking wife, yet whenever 
 he had a chance, trying to put his fingers in every 
 other peT8)n's atfairs, going out to walk with young 
 ladies who would have seen him far enough; I 
 thought there was something wrong ; he came home 
 
THE ORAND OOllDONS. 
 
 539 
 
 man was 
 
 in a grnat hurry about an hour ago ; I think it's an 
 hour past, Susan V" 
 
 ^' Yes, Sir, it's all that." 
 
 *' Up stairs he ran, and loft the cal) ho ramo in, at 
 Iho front door, pulled out a ^roat Saratoi»a trunk 
 down stairs — out at the back door — and off in a otd) 
 with his wife ; callinj^ to Susan " I'm g-oinj^ to s;oo 
 my wife olf; I'll be back in ten minutes, the cab can 
 wait for me." 
 
 " Alt by gorra, its waitincr for him yet," said the 
 policeman. •' The man's at the door quite contented 
 sleeping on the box." 
 
 *' That boats Harry," continued the policeman. 
 •' Let me see his room, Susan ; perhaps I'll get 
 something there in the shape of letters or memoranda 
 that '11 help us to bag our man ; such cattle are very 
 fond of i)utting their thoughts on paper." 
 
 " Come on, I'll let you see the room ; I want to see 
 the fun," said Sharpquill, as if he really enjoyed the 
 thing. " I dont want to see the poor nigger trapped, 
 but I confess I think he does deserve a lew months 
 for his impudence in making up to girls who could 
 get better than him " 
 
 Sharpquill had gulled the policeman ; it was not 
 the first time he had done so to others of the same 
 craft in a wider field. They went upstairs to the 
 room where Captain Percy was locked in the ward- 
 robe, the policeman saying to himsek', " Smith has 
 been interfering with this chap's girl, and he feels 
 his toes sore." 
 
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 540 
 
 THE GKAND OORDONS. 
 
 " Ah ha !" said the man, ns h« entered, anJ saw the 
 coiifiisiou which reigned in Captain Percy's room. 
 " It's pretty evident this nest has been forsaken, look 
 at his letters all lyini^ about, I'll take them with me, 
 he may have missed something in his hurry ; here, 
 ' Thompson, take this desk, pack all them papers into 
 it, and yo can take this box too," said he, pushing the 
 dressing case from which CUiptain Percy had already 
 taken the few valuables it contained, towards his 
 confrere. 
 
 The man looked round, perhaps to see if there was 
 anything else worth taking, perhaps in case Bmith 
 might be hiding in some out of the way place ; he 
 tried to open the wardrobe ; " this is locked, has he 
 left anything here V" said he, addressing the girl. 
 
 " Oh ! no," said Sharpquill, " that is a cupboard 
 "which is always kept full of preserves and other 
 stores, the mistress keeps the key of it always in her 
 pocket." .» 
 
 " 80," replied the policeman, giving it a push as he 
 passed by, " it's like that, it's prc^tty steady on its pins, 
 is there any bottles in it, Biddy V" , 
 
 *' No, Sir, Mrs. Sugarspoon is temperance." 
 " If Smith had been temperance too, it's as like as 
 not I would not be after him. Good-bye, Biddy." 
 
 Susan tossed her head with an ofiended air, and as 
 she afterward told Mr. Sharpquill, " was very glad 
 that ere himpudent fellow didn't catch Mr. Smith ; a 
 good face he had to change my name as was a sight 
 better than his own." 
 
I 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 541 
 
 The foiled policeman and Sharpquill left the house 
 loj»ether, the latter returning however in a short time, 
 bringing with him in a cab a large bundle, from 
 which, after releasing Captain Percy from his un- 
 comfortal)le quarters, he took a priest's robe, dress 
 and hat, a dye for the skin, a black wig, and a silk 
 umbrella. 
 
 Having instructed his friend in the mystery of the 
 skin dye, and in the necessity there w^as for removing 
 the few hirsute fair hairs which he fondly called his 
 moustache, the Avig was properly adjusted by the 
 help of its Indian rubber straps, the dress and hat 
 put on in priestly style, and then Mr. Sharpquill sent 
 Susan to the next grocery to purchase a bottle of 
 beer, while in her absence, he and the Jesuit priest 
 departed, Ihe maid of all work being wholly ignorant 
 of the tiansformation in Mr. Smith's appearance. 
 
 The worthy couple passed down Bleury street, 
 through Groat St. James and Notre Dame Streets, 
 the pretended priest receiving more than one bow of 
 respect in passing along ; arrived in Jacques-Cartier 
 square, they sought the chambers of Mr. Sharpquill, 
 which chambers consisted of a dirty office, containing 
 two desks, two stools, a set of dusty shelves, on 
 which were ostentatiously placed some law books 
 and a few dilapidated tin boxes, supposed to contain 
 valuable papers. 
 
 On entering. Mr. Sharpquill carefully adjusted the 
 ticket outside the door which informed his clients 
 that he had " gone to dinner and would be back in 
 
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 11 
 
 542 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 an hour," and then locking the door inside, seated 
 himself on one of the high three legged stools^ 
 motioning to Captain Percy to take the other. 
 
 " Now," said he, " You can tell me what you wish 
 me to do for you ; you got pretty well through the 
 streets just now, but it will be as well not to take 
 the air again until seven or eight o'clock. The train 
 for the west starts at eight forty ; it will be dark 
 before then, and darkness is a valuable friend when 
 we feel tired or nervous, and dont wish to receive 
 the attentions of our friends or the public." 
 
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iside, seated 
 ^ged stools^ 
 ►ther. 
 
 iat you wish 
 through the 
 I not to take 
 . The train 
 vill be dark 
 friend when 
 ih to receive 
 
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 , CHAPTER XXVr. 
 
 WAS conscious of existence, a very painful 
 existence and little else ; there was an elderly 
 woman with a very white apron always beside 
 my bed, who spoke kindly to me, and tried to make 
 me take medicine and food which I never would 
 take, and I sometimes saw Mrs. Balfour trying to 
 make me more comfortable with her kindly cheerful 
 face, and more than once I saw a pale white face I 
 seemed to remember as I looked at the lace alone, 
 but the black dress trimmed with crape when I 
 looked at it, soon dimmed all the memory of the 
 beautiful white face. 
 
 But these, the woman with the white apron, Mrs. 
 Balfour, and the beautiful white face, were only seen 
 sometimes ; there was a great sea of faces waving up 
 and down, back and forth, that was always there ; 
 the awful countenances of the Judge and the 
 jurymen were ever before me, coming between me 
 and the pattern of roses on the wall paper, between 
 me and the light from the window, ever, ever there ; 
 during my waking hours, in my sleep, all the same ; 
 they were never absent. 
 
 They all spoke, but they only said one word ; the 
 
 • ■■) 
 
544 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 AUh ]u 
 
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 i i* 
 
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 i ;k 
 
 sea of faces all spoke it ; the judge and the jurymen 
 all spoke it so clearly, not loud, but deep, distinct, 
 and clear — 
 
 "Guilty!" 
 
 The sea of heads would open their mouths and 
 say, each looking at me with serious cold eyes. 
 
 "Guilty!" 
 
 The jury wovild reply. 
 
 "Guilty!" 
 
 The judge repeated, and the sentence seemed to 
 be just,—" Guilty." 
 
 And worst of all Captain Percy would point at me 
 with his hooked finger, and in the same cold voice 
 as the others, but more bitter, say — 
 
 " Guilty !" 
 
 One day I awoke from a long sleep ; the white 
 beautiful face was looking at me, my hand in her's, 
 but the sea of faces came between me and her face ; 
 I was stronger than usual, and I told her of my 
 torment. 
 
 I closed my eyes, although I could not shut out 
 one of the faces by doing so, nor could I shut my 
 ears to the terrible word " Guilty !" 
 
 I heard the beautiful white face speak to another, 
 and tell all I had told her. 
 
 She came again in a few minutes, and I was lifted 
 from my bed, and the beautiful white face and 
 myself were in a carriage, driving away from the 
 sea of faces, and we came into a fine house, and 
 
■ ■' i' 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 545 
 
 into a larf^e room where there was a balcony, and 
 the sunshine came pourmg- in, and outside, the green 
 iir trees and the feathery cedar, waved their fresh 
 arms, although every other tree was bare and dead. 
 
 And there I saw the beautiful white face nearly 
 all the time, and the sea of faces never came again. 
 
 For a week after I lost consciousness in the court 
 house, I was an inmate of Doctor Balfour's hospitable 
 house, watched over tenderly by his wife, waited on 
 with all the love and care she could have given had 
 I been her heart's best sister, but the room had a 
 north light, the house was too still, my fevered brain 
 was left without the sunshine or tlio sounds of 
 nature, to wean it from feeding on itself; I was 
 removed to ?^ir Ivoginald Gordon's house on the 
 slope of the Mountain, where the morning sun came 
 to me with its first Tays» where 1 heard the peacock 
 scream for rain and the house fowl boding day, the 
 cattle low, and the hound bay the moon, where the 
 trees before my window wared and tossed their 
 feathery arms with every wind that blew. 
 
 And ere a week was spent there I was well, and 
 felt all my old strength and energy come back, and 
 longed with nervous unrest to be home again, back 
 in Scotland ; not in my grandfather's home, I did not 
 think of that, but in my own little room in the old 
 house at Leith. 
 
 I was not needed where I was, the doctor would 
 not hear of Mrs. Percy going home until the begin- 
 ning of December, but she was well in body and 
 
 K2 
 
 1: 
 
 J -.1 
 
 
546 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 !- 
 
 m 
 
 li II 
 
 mind, walking about the house and the conservatory, 
 riding out with her brothers every day, receiving- 
 visits, and (so said Mr. Morton) becoming more like 
 herself than when he first saw her in the private 
 room at the convent, (which after they knew who 
 she was the nuns provided for her), he thought she 
 ever would be again. 
 
 Mrs. Percy spoke every hour of her children, and 
 her heart yearned to be with them, but it seemed 
 to me as if she dreaded to go home and find her 
 mother's chair empty. 
 
 One day I surprised her w^eeping bitterly, a small 
 portrait of her mother, painted in ivory, which Mr. 
 Eobert Gordon had brought from Scotland with him, 
 in her hand. ' 
 
 She dried her tears, saying, " It is so wicked to feel 
 thus, but I never thought of mamma's dying, she 
 was so strong, I had such full faith, ever, ever, in 
 her being the first to welcome me when I went 
 home ; Miss St. Clare, do you know if my children 
 could come here, I would never wish to go home." 
 
 I scarcely knew what answer to give. I knew 
 that Sir Reginald was most anxious to return to his 
 native land, and I heard Robert Gordon say he would 
 not live in Canada to be made its King, yet I could 
 understand her feelings, and sympathise with them 
 in her. 
 
 As for myself, each day seemed a year as long as 
 I remained ; after my health came back to me, I 
 

 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 147 
 
 '1 , 
 
 seemed to have a fear of remaining where I had 
 suffered so much. . 
 
 Mrs. Percy was very unwilling to allow me go, 
 and begged of me to stay until the tenth of December, 
 when she herself was to have the doctor's leave to 
 cross the ocean, but I could not remain ; it seemed 
 as if some feeling I could not conquer, urged me to 
 go ; I had determined, if God so willed it to spend 
 Christmas day in ray own home with Ella and Grand- 
 papa, and I had a strong desire to remain a week or 
 two in my old home at Leith, to rest before I resigned 
 my room there, and left it, if to return ever, only as a 
 stranger.' • 
 
 I had fulfilled the mission I had come for. Mrs. 
 Percy was restored to her own people. God had 
 in His mercy willed that it should end even as her 
 dead mother had said it would. I was of no use in 
 Montreal. Mrs. Percy had her two brothers and Mr. 
 Morton, who never left her, (Major Seaton had gone 
 to Nova Scotia the second day after Mrs. Percy had 
 been removed from the con\ent to her brother's 
 residence,) and I felt sure that had Lady Gordon 
 been able to speak, she would have said, " Go home 
 and rest m your own land, among your own people." 
 
 Not only was Mrs. Percy averse to my going, but 
 several times Sir. Reginald added his entreaties to 
 hcr's ; and another, dearer, far dearer than beautiful 
 Mrs. Percy or any Grand Gordon could be, pleaded 
 with me to stay and be his wife, until my heart was 
 like to break. But the Lord helped me, and even for 
 
 
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 148 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 His dear sake, "who was willing to sacrifice all for me, 
 I strengthened myself to go. . - . 
 
 Sir Reginald Gordon proposed to take me to visit 
 the Falls of Niagara, the city of Quebec which 
 constitutes the classic ground of Canada, and the 
 Falls of Montmorenci. Six months before, I should 
 have hailed with delight accepting of his kind olFer 
 in full ; I had always looked forward to seeing the 
 wondrous waters of Niagara which seem as if God 
 poured them from His hollow hand, but now my 
 spirit was bruised and broken, and it was only out 
 of complaisance to Sir Reginald that I consented to 
 spend a few days in seeing the City of Quebec and 
 the Falls of Montmorenci ; I chose them as beinir 
 nearer Montreal, visiting them would occupy less 
 time. ' > 
 
 It is true I looked Avith my outward eyes upon 
 both, but the Heights of Abraham are now only a 
 name, I cannot realize ever having seen them. The 
 quaint old city with its almost perpendicular streets 
 I remember far less distinctly than a dream. ' 
 
 The Falls of Montmorenci I think of as a river 
 struggling through snow clad heights crowned with 
 trees, the leaves of which are feathery snow flakes, 
 the trunks and slender boughs covered with a 
 coating of thin ice, the cone in front of the Falls 
 which by mid winter is as much the delight as the 
 wonder of the pleasure parties who seek Montmorenci 
 for tobogganing (a favorite winter amusement in 
 Montreal as well as Quebec) was then in its incipient 
 
 &A m 
 
THE GRAND OOIIDONS. 
 
 549 
 
 state, not half the height which it would be a month 
 afterwards, and in this incipient state the cone of 
 Montmorenci,if it is ever recalled to my mind's eye, 
 comes to me. 
 
 On my return I at once commenced making 
 inquiries as to a vessel in which I could take my 
 passage home. I would not ask Sir lleginald or Mr. 
 Gordon either to do so, although both treated me 
 exactly as if I had been a sister. I knew they would 
 put one stumbling block after another, until the time 
 passed off from day to-day, and the tenth of December 
 came, when they would themselves go too. 
 
 Mr. Morton made inquiries lor me, and on the 
 eighteenth of November told me, that there was a 
 ship to sail from New-York on the nineteenth, and 
 another on the twenty-fifth. To go by the first I 
 would have to leave Montreal by the train which 
 started for New York at eight o'clock that evening. 
 "While we were speaking, the clock on the chimney 
 piece pointed to half past six, and I decided to go by 
 the vessel which was to sail on the twenty-fifth. 
 
 "When I had made my decision, Mr. Morton said 
 he would go as far as New York with me, and after 
 seeing me on board, return to join the rest in Mon- 
 treal. Having received my thanks for his proffered 
 kindness which I gladly accepted of, he said, looking 
 in my face with an earnest serious air — 
 
 " Miss St. Clare, I have something I wish to tell 
 you, and which I think you should know, but it 
 must never be repeated in Canada ; I know I can 
 trust you." 
 
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 650 
 
 Tilt: ORANl) (loKDONH. 
 
 " I should hop(» you ran," 1 r«^i)li*Ml, lookiui^ up in 
 liis faco. 
 
 Jlo iluMi .said ./()//;• mmh, only four ; at ilvfst I could 
 soarccly ivalizo tluMV iniporf, ])ut whon id last I 
 fully (H)mi>iH»hondod what he said, nolhinuf short of 
 deadly sickness could have kept me another niiiht 
 in Montreal. 
 
 At eight o'clock Mr. Morion and myselT \ver(» on 
 board the train lor New York. 
 
 I was dressed and sitting by the j^arlor window 
 of the rullman car by early dawn, ^rhese railway 
 shM^]>ing berths arc to me worse than being in a 
 state room berth at sea, they make me giddy and 
 sick ; we were at a station, and Mr. Morton who had 
 been out on the platform, joiniMl me a secoiul aflm" J 
 entered the saloon. 
 
 " Jwook at that priest," said he, *' try if you can 
 think of any one he resembles." 
 
 A middle sized man, in the dress of a Jesuit priest, 
 was strutting up and down the platform ; he was 
 stout, rather out of proportion to his height, which 
 in the clothes men ordinarily wear, made him look 
 undersized ; of course a priest's robe gave him height 
 as it always does ; something in his strutting walk, 
 and about his short feet, reminded me of Captain 
 Percy. He had gone to the end of the platform, and 
 turning round laced me, so that I had an opportunity 
 of seeing his face. It was very dark, with black 
 hair, otherwise a perfect resemblance of Captain 
 Percy ; the priest drew in his under lip pressing it 
 with his teeth. 
 
TlIK (lllANl) (loKlxjNS. 
 
 r,:,i 
 
 •' TJiul In Ciiplain IN'rcy in diHi;uiHo." Miiid I, almost 
 involiiiiiiirily. 
 
 •' You nro ri«;ht," replied Mr. Morion. " T hoiird 
 liiiii iiilkin!»" inside ihe bar room as I passed ; llio 
 V()i(!0 first ailra(!ied my attention; when I saw th« 
 man, there was no mistake ; it is in this disguise, ho 
 has eluded the olIic^M's of justi(!(\ who have vainly 
 endeavored to appr«'hend liim ibr the last sixteen 
 days; I hope ho will f^et oil'; on his trial it is most 
 likely his real name would come out ; this would ho 
 most annoying to the whole of the Gordons and 
 8(Mitons, even il' it could be concealed J'rom i)Oor 
 Tiny, (I hate to call her by his name), which I Tear 
 would be impossi])le in those days when ladies read 
 the morning papers as regularly as gentlemen." 
 
 I kept back from the window, yet seating myself 
 so as to sec him without his being able to see me. I 
 had an uncontrollable dread of the man's basilisk eye 
 and hooked linger. I was more open to his insult in 
 a railway carriage than in a crowded court room. I 
 kn(?w he hated me, I fear the feeling was reciprocal, 
 that I hated as well as dreaded him ; I would not 
 willingly have touched the clothes he wore. 
 
 The whistle shrieked, Captain Percy jumped upon 
 the car platform, as if about to enter ; a second or 
 two after he came back again, his head bent down 
 with a fierce scowl on his face, as he muttered some 
 words very like an imprecation. 
 
 The cars moved on ; it was with a feeling of intense 
 relief I saw him left strutting up and down the plat- 
 
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 VI 
 
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 r)52 
 
 TIIK OHAND MounoNH. 
 
 I'onn of llio (lopol. Th(} conduclor allorwiirdM 1<>1«| 
 Mr. Morion, llio priost hiul Immmi ])iit oH' iho ciirH 
 hociniNC lio luid no licki'l nn<l rt'lusod lo ]>iiy lor oiu',. 
 nlN'uinu: Unit Ini wjim un|>r»'pnr('(l lo do ho, us in 
 Ciiniida nil ('l«'rji»ynuMi IntvrlN'd rr<H» ! 
 
 AVo jirriv«Ml in Now York JunI in linm lo roncli llni 
 vrsNol wliicli WiiH lo l>rini>- inc to my own liunl. 
 
 I l)!i(lo i»-oo(ll)y(> lo Mr. I\Iorlon willi ii urnlciul 
 reinonibrancc ol' nil liis kindnoss sinc(^ llni lirHt day 
 1 saw him, and snl. on dt'clc, lookini*' at his smihrn; 
 iat'o as li«> wavod Iiis handkiM-cIiicl' on lim <piay> 
 iinlil lK)lh handkcrcliiol' and quay woro ^"ono IVoni 
 my siulii. 
 
 We had Iho usual amount of sicknoss on boiird, 
 whicli ov(M'y ono wlio lrav(M*s»'s Uio ocimui in lln^ end 
 oi' Novt»nd)or must oxpoct. Thoro was oidy ono hidy 
 passonnvr bosido mysolf, lh(3 rest of Uio passon«^ors 
 boini»' imneipally ufoulhMnou goins^ i'rom Canada on 
 business to I'highuid. 
 
 During the iirst low days of our voyago I was 
 almost alono on dock, and had timo lo moditato on 
 all tho nuu'oios which had boon A'ouchsaibd to mo ; 
 iho l^ord had richly luliillod His promise. 
 
 Ho was indeed with mo in all my ways, and had 
 brought mo out of much tribulation, and set my foot 
 in a large room. 
 
 In all that had befixllen mo I could see a need be. 
 Without having committed the crime which con- 
 signed me to a prison, Captain Percy, if he failed in 
 obtaining possession of his wife, would no doubt 
 
 "k>4- :J';r 1/1 
 
iirds lold 
 
 illO CIIIK 
 
 \f Tor oiii*,. 
 
 NO, ilM ill 
 
 rcncli Ihn 
 iind. 
 
 L ^'ralcriil 
 \ lirnt <liiy 
 iH Niiiiliiii; 
 llin <iuay> 
 ono IVoni 
 
 on })()nr(l, 
 u ih(^ (Mul 
 one lady 
 assoiij^ci's 
 laiiadii oil 
 
 l;o I was 
 Klitato on 
 to mc ; 
 
 land had 
 my feet 
 
 iieed be. 
 tch con- 
 failed in 
 lo doubt 
 
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 THE GRAND OOIIDONS. 
 
 558 
 
 i :i 
 
 have tormontod hor all her life. That it would he a 
 moHt dilKcult ihinj^ to prove the crime of hi^ramy 
 a«»ainHt Captain l*ercy, her hvothers had already i'oniid 
 to ho the case. Mrs. Smith was ^oiie, no one knew 
 v\here, and those who had known them in Montreal 
 could not tell whether they were really married or not. 
 
 lie was now however a proscrihed man, as much 
 under the han of the law in Britain as in Canada ; 
 Mrs. Percy and her children could now live in peace ; 
 there could he little fear of his attempting to disturb 
 them. 
 
 Half an hour before I left Montreal, Mr. Morton 
 had informed me in presence of Sir Keginald, that 
 in terms of the document empowering him to spend 
 ten thousand pounds in searching for Mrs. Percy, I 
 was to inherit whatever was left of the sum in 
 question after my work had been accomplished. I 
 was thus rich beyond what I had ever thought of ; 
 there had not been a hundred pounds of the money 
 spent, and Mr. Morton had Sir Reginald's orders to 
 deliver the sum of ten thousand pounds intact into 
 the Bank of Scotland in my name. 
 
 Grandpapa should have a new Sabbath suit every 
 year, and anything else he hked ; instead of sending 
 Ella to teach in a school I would send her to 
 Edinburgh, have masters to instruct her ; she could 
 now be as accomplished as I was not ; and poor 
 Janet should have a maid of all work to assist her, 
 and her own wages doubled. 
 
 Almost alone on the deck of the Prussian I used 
 
 ^' i-i 
 
 f1 
 
554 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 I i 
 
 ') ( 
 
 :i- 
 
 i' 1 
 
 to sit, forming plans of future happiness, in "which 
 do what I would, a handsome face which had poured 
 out a wealth of love for me while I was under a 
 cloud of obloquy, steeped in misery, came and mingled 
 with the few other loved ones I could call my own ; 
 this was the cross I had to bear ; we have all one of 
 some kind ; with some of us the iron enters sharper 
 into the soul than with others ; I had taken up this 
 cross voluntarily, and the dear Lord who alone knew 
 my heart, would help me to bear it ; a blighted name 
 must not be joined to his ; in the single life I looked 
 forw.ird to, my greatest blessing would be the 
 knowledge that I had won his love. 
 
 On the fourth day of our voyage I was sitting 
 thus, with closed eyes, dreaming of my loved ones 
 in " Scotland o'er the sea," and, alas ! for our poor 
 weak human nature, of one I had left behind, of my 
 own free will, and yet I was wholly unable to banish 
 from my heart of hearts ; when I was conscious of 
 some one sitting down by my side, and opening my 
 eyes, beheld in the other lady passenger, Abby ! — 
 
 I at first recoiled from her, as I would from 
 pollution, but a glance at her pale thin face and 
 subdued eye, told me that if I would follow in my 
 Master's path, I must try to pour the balm of healing 
 into what was too evidently a wounded breast. 
 
 She at once recognized me, and almost immediately 
 began to speak of Captain Percy, in a tone and 
 manner which only one who firmly believed herself 
 a wife could do. 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 555 
 
 She was as unreserved and communicative as ever, 
 told me that it was with her entire acquiescence the 
 American lady had given her evidence in my favor. 
 
 " If he had only stolen the things and not 
 endeavored to put the blame on another," said she, 
 *' I would have done all to screen him I could? 
 although goodness knows he deserves nothing at my 
 hands, but to try and put the blame of what he was 
 himself guilty on a poor innocent girl. Oh ! I could 
 not suffer that ; it was worse that and stealing the 
 things together, than all he had ever done to myself.'' 
 
 She was very ill, poor thing, and was on her way 
 to her mother's home. She told me she determined 
 to leave him when she found he had been a thief 
 Nothing, she said, could tempt her to remain witji 
 him after that. 
 
 *' I knew he stole Mrs. Percy's money," said she, 
 " and he stole mine, but he thought that was his own 
 of course, because we were his wives." 
 
 • I winced a little to hear her so coolly class herself 
 with Lady Gordon's daughter. 
 
 " I had two hundred pounds saved when I was in 
 India with Mrs. Douglasso, and Colonel Douglasso 
 invested it in some way that gave good interest ; I 
 never drew the interest, and it grew to be three 
 hundred pounds, when, like a fool, I told Captain 
 Percy I had it, and nothing would serve him but I 
 must take my hard won earnings and put them into 
 his hands ; once in, never out — that was the last 
 sight I saw of my money. I got a letter of his the 
 
 » ; A 
 
 *••■(;■ 
 
 M 
 
556 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS- 
 
 ' I 
 
 f'l 
 
 day I came away from Montreal, with a hundred 
 pounds in it, and I was real glad ; I was going to sell 
 some of my clothes to get away, but I just took the 
 money that was in the letter, and came to New York 
 with it, but I was sick there, so I'm going home to 
 mother, and unless Captain Percy can prove to me 
 he's a changed man, I'll never live a day with him 
 again ; we're poor but we're honest folk, and that's 
 more than he can say, with all his pride." 
 
 This conversation, if conversation it can be called, 
 where the talking was all on one side, took place the 
 day before we expected to land. I saw from the first 
 she was quite ignorant of the fact that Mrs. Percy 
 was still in life, and I did not think it fair to the poor 
 woman herself, that she should be left in ignorance 
 of this, exposing her to a renewal of a life of crime, 
 whenever it might suit Captain Percy to cajole her 
 into believing he had been belied. I knew from all 
 I had learnt of him, he had enough of sophistry to 
 blind a more intelligent mind than hers. Besides, 
 the day might come, when her testimony to the 
 effect that she was really married to him, would be 
 of the" greatest use. 
 
 " Where were you married ? I asked. 
 
 " In Brooklyn, New York," was the reply. 
 
 " In church ?" 
 
 " Yes. Captain Percy did not wish to be married 
 in church, because as he said we were to be married 
 so soon after his first wife's death, but I was deter- 
 mined all my Hfe that when I married it should be 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 557 
 
 
 all fair and square, in a grand chnrch, — no hngger 
 mugger marriage for me, so we were married in 
 the church of the Ascension, at Brooklyn, by the 
 Keverend Doctor Tollman ; I had a beautiful bride's 
 dress and veil, I have them yet, and we had a 
 carriage and four, and an outrider, and white reins, 
 and white satin favors on the coachman and the 
 outrider." 
 
 As the poor thing spoke of the grandeur of her 
 marriage, she raised her head, throwing it back, and 
 putting on all the little airs I had seen her assume 
 on my first acquaintance v/ith her ; the feeling was 
 very effervescent ; it soon passed away, and dropping 
 her head again, she said — 
 
 *' I did not think that day I was marrying a thief." 
 
 I judged this was perhaps the best opportunity I 
 might have of telling her what it was well for herself 
 and for every one concerned she should know, and 
 looking her seriously in the face, until I caught her 
 eye, I said — 
 
 " I see that you are not aware that Mrs. Percy is 
 alive." 
 
 Her face became deadly pale, as with staring eyes 
 she gasped out, " Mrs. Percy alive ! dont say that." 
 
 " I tell you God's truth ; she is alive and in Mon- 
 treal." 
 
 " She is alive ! and in Montreal !" she repeated 
 
 in a hoarse whisper, her face becoming livid, her lips 
 as if they were baked dry ashes. " Oh ! no, no, it's 
 not true, it couldn't be ; he went away in such bad 
 
 
 1 : I 
 
 ■i ;: 
 
 , ■■A.^M 
 
558 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 ii 
 
 iK 
 
 ^1 ;i 
 
 II-. 
 
 humor, and came back so jolly and pleased after she 
 was dead. Oh ! I'll never forget that day, him walking" 
 Tip and down the room, singing * what a beauty I 
 did grow, did grow ;' it couldn't be true ; you didn't 
 see her yourself ?" 
 
 " Yes I saw her myself; in the convent of T!ie Holy 
 Cross, before Captain Percy put the things he stole 
 into my pocket, and since the day he was found < nt, 
 on the second of this month, I have seen her almost 
 every day ; for twelve days past I have lived with 
 her in her brother Sir Reginald Gordon's house on the 
 mountain ; I have sat at dinner with her, and driven 
 out with her in the carriage every day ; think you I 
 could be mistaken in all that ?" 
 
 " Her brother ; who is her brother ?" in the same 
 hoarse whisper. • * 
 
 " Sir Reginald Gordon, who lives in Mr. Dyke's 
 house, above Sherbrooke street." 
 
 " And he took her from Percy, and she has been all 
 the time there ?" 
 
 " No, Captain Percy put her to board in an Indian's 
 hut, where she lived in great misery, and when her 
 baby died, and was buried close beside the window 
 where the poor mother sat, she had the two rings 
 cut off her finger to buy white clothes and a little 
 coffin to bury it in ; and Captain Percy brought 
 poison in a small blue bottle with a silver top, and 
 gave it to his wife after her baby was dead, and told 
 her to drink it." 
 
 I was thus particular, in case Abby might have 
 
 ;}!!:;; 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 559 
 
 seen the blue bottle, and recognize the description. 
 The poor woman put down her head between both 
 her hands and groaned aloud — 
 
 " I saw the bottle, a flat glove bottle." 
 She rocked herself to and fro as if she was trying^ 
 to suppress some strong emotion, until unable any 
 longer to control herself, she burst into a flood of 
 tears. 
 
 She wept convulsively for some time, and when 
 the violence of her tears had passed away, she said, 
 speaking in detached sentences, in a repentant, 
 depressed A^oice, or in angry tones, as the dill'erent 
 emotions of regret or anger swayed her. 
 
 •' I helped to do that Oh ! the wretch, the horrid 
 
 wretch Oh ! ine, me, when she gave me her 
 
 letters to post, I always gave them to him he was 
 
 w^orse than the Devil, he began to speak evil of his 
 
 wdfe the first week I was there he deserves to be 
 
 hanged 1 hope he'll be hanged dont they hang 
 
 them in England for marrying two wives ?" 
 
 " No. The second marriage is not worth any- 
 thing ; it is not considered a legal marriage ; besides 
 he denies that he ever married you ; if you have 
 your marriage certilicate, and he has given the pro- 
 per name, Bertram Percy, he will certainly be 
 punished with confinement perhaps for many years ; 
 but if your marriage certificate is not signed all 
 right, he can laugh at you, and tell you he never 
 married you." 
 
 She rose on the instant, and with long quick steps 
 
 
 'A 
 
 r 4 
 
 
 i .11 
 
 ', '1- 
 
 '* ',' 
 
 . 1 
 
 '. ; )■ 
 
 ' i 
 
 i 
 
 
5G0 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 ■:!i 
 
 ;m »i 
 
 I '1. 
 
 m 
 
 went to the companion ladder which she descended 
 almost at a run ; she was gone for about five minutes, 
 when she again made her appearance, coming up <o 
 where I sat, at the same rapid pace as she left the 
 deck. She was a tall full made woman, and in her 
 wrath had quite a commanding air ; every trace of 
 illness had left her face and gait ; her step, quick as 
 it was, seemed to be as firm as a rock; altogether 
 she gave me the impression of some handsome wild 
 animal that had been chall'ed and enraged. 
 
 She sat down on the bench beside me, and without 
 speaking, put an envelope into my baud. I opened 
 and looked at its contents ; it was a certificate of mar- 
 riage, by special license, at the church of the Ascen- 
 sion, Brooklyn ; the ceremony performed by the 
 Reverend John Edmund Tollman ; the names of the 
 bride and bridegroom were clear enough, Bertram 
 George Percy, Abigail Smith ; the witnesses were 
 Ivichard Robertson, M. D. and Jonathan Stroud. 
 
 As I read the names aloud, she asked, as if she had 
 not clearly comprehended what I at first said — 
 
 " If it was not his own name, Bertram George 
 Percy, that paper would be of no use ?" 
 
 " None whatever," was my reply. " It is not ol 
 much use even as it is ; it cannot make a marriage 
 with a married man legal, but if his wife had been 
 dead, and he had married you in another name than 
 his own, that certificate would not be worth the 
 paper it is written on." 
 
 " Oh ! the base villain ; he made all the excuses in 
 
■1 -H 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 5G1 
 
 3scended 
 minutes, 
 ing up to 
 ) left the 
 nd in her 
 r trace of 
 , quick as 
 xltogethor 
 omo wild 
 
 id without 
 
 I oi^enod 
 ite of miiv- 
 the Asceu- 
 d by the 
 naes of the 
 1, Bertram 
 jsses were 
 
 roud. 
 
 tf she had 
 
 id- 
 George 
 
 lis not ot 
 
 I marriage 
 
 lad been 
 
 ime than 
 
 rorth the 
 
 :cuses in 
 
 the world to get me to marry him by the name of 
 George Smith, and if it had been a genteel name like 
 Howard or Douglasso, I would'nt have cared, l)ui 
 George Smith ! is'nt it common? I would'nt have 
 8uch a name in place of Bertram Percy for nothing, 
 so when he uaw I would'nt, he gave in ; Oh ! the 
 unhanged dog." 
 
 ♦• This is all right," said I, Avhon her impetuosity 
 would allow me to speak. " lie cannot deny this ; 
 he has incurred a great crime by deceiving you to 
 your ruin, while his first wife was alive ; that she is 
 still alive, and in better health than she has been for 
 years you can satisfy yourself by coming to Scotland 
 at Christmas ; by that time she will be in Rockgirtisle 
 Hall ; it is close to Leith, any cab-man will drive you, 
 and I can answer that you will be received civilly." 
 
 " I dare say that ; Mrs. Percy is too much of a 
 lady to be rude to any one, but I could not face her 
 after all I have done ; — I could not look at her, after 
 all the impudence I gave her ; — but it is all his fault ; 
 he used to tell me things to say I could never have 
 thought of ; he often bid me call her an old Scotch 
 cat. It was all his fault, — I was as good a girl as 
 ever w^as when I lived with Mrs. Douglasso, and she 
 was very sorry to part with me, only she was going 
 home, and it would have been too expensive to take 
 a maid and nurse both." 
 
 She stopped a second or two, to take breath ; she 
 
 spoke as she had moved when she went in search of 
 
 the marriage certificate, but the false strength her 
 
 L2 
 
 Hi 
 
I ,1 
 
 562 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 i.' :' M 
 
 ii'l 
 
 i ^t 
 
 ^' 4i 
 
 anger gave had passed away ; she was pale and 
 weak again, a«nd speaking so rapidly and with the 
 vehemence she used, exhausted the little strength 
 she had picked up since she came on board. 
 
 She was nervous and excited ; no wonder, poor 
 thing ; a less demonstrative nature than hers might 
 have been so under the circumstances ; she x:)ulled 
 out her handkerchief, a beautifully worked cambric 
 one which I fancied I knew, and had packed up to 
 be sent to India ; she wiped her face, and then in her 
 nervous unrest which must find employment, plaited 
 the border of her handkerchief all round between 
 her finger and thumb. 
 
 Stopping short, she spread the handkerchief upon 
 her knee, saying as she did so — 
 
 " That's her handkerchief; I hare all her clothes, 
 hut I wont be a thief like him ; I'll send them all 
 hack again." 
 
 " Do not do so," replied I. " Mrs. Percy would 
 never wear any of those clothes again ; it would 
 only annoy her to see them, and I am sure you would 
 not wish to do that." » 
 
 " No, indeed ; I wish from my heart I could do 
 anything which would show her that I repent bitterly 
 of all I did to her, but I'll suffer more myself than 
 ever she can ; I have to go back to my poor mother, 
 and tell her I was married to a man whose first wife 
 is alive. Oh ! the wretch, the base wretch," she con- 
 tinued, with wild rage. " I hope I'll meet him yet, 
 and tear his hair and his eyes out." 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 563 
 
 m 
 
 palo and 
 ^vith the 
 strength 
 [. 
 
 ider, poor 
 er s might 
 uhe pulled 
 id cambric 
 eked np to 
 hen in her 
 Bnt, plaited 
 Ld between 
 
 rchief upon 
 
 er clothes, 
 id them all 
 
 jrcy would 
 it would 
 you would 
 
 could do 
 [ent bitterly 
 lyself than 
 )or mother, 
 56 first wife 
 ," she con- 
 st him yet, 
 
 *' If you really wish to serve Mrs. Percy, I will tell 
 you how you can do so." 
 
 ** Tell me what it is, and I'll be glad to do it." 
 *• You can let me take a copy of your marriage 
 certificate ; if she has that, he can never claim her 
 ibr his wife, which he wishes to do ; nor do I suppose 
 he can have any claim to take the children from her ; 
 I do not think that with his character he would be 
 able to do so even without this proof of his second 
 marriage, but he would give her as much trouble as 
 he could to get money from her." 
 
 " Take it and copy it if you like, but give it back 
 to me again. I hope yet to make him be sent to 
 Botany Bay wdth that. Oh ! I could stand to see 
 him hanged and quartered, the low beast that he is." 
 
 Her anger again vented itself in violent sobs and 
 tears ; when she had exhausted herself, she said* 
 speaking so calmly that at first she startled me — 
 
 " Will you tell Mrs. Percy's brother, that if there 
 is anything I can do to help them to punish him, Fll 
 do it ; I'll only be too glad to do anything to show 
 I'm sorry for my own wickedness ; I told him where 
 she had the money she hid away to pay her passage 
 home, and I watched for her letters and brought 
 them to him, the beast who was leading me on to 
 jny ruin." 
 
 There was no use trying to lead her to a better 
 'way of thinking ; to tell her to try to leave the old 
 life behind ; to forget it if possible ; to strive to live 
 a new life, with a different aim ; she would not listeu 
 
 
 
 
5C4 
 
 THE GRAND OORDONS. 
 
 Si 
 
 ',■ i« 
 
 H m 
 
 !'i 
 
 l! ^ :i 
 
 !:f 
 
 to such coiinsol, perhnps it was too soon to plvo such 
 
 lior heart was too soro, too iull of her own 
 
 wrecked lite the wounds slio suU'ered from, wore 
 
 too fresh and blcedini^ ; her very repentance was 
 revenge. 
 
 I copied her marriage cortificaio, and brought it 
 with mo to Edinburgh. When I bade her good-bye^ 
 she gave me the address of her mother in Cumber- 
 land, and again impressed upon me her earnest wish 
 to criminate Captain Percy, to help to put him in 
 jirison, and send him to Botany Bay, as sho herself 
 expressed it. 
 
 I was in Scotland ; in Edinburgh ; by St. Giles 
 Church, the dear old place, how my eyes seemed to 
 recognize and my heart to love each stone in its 
 walls as I passed. 
 
 In Leith at the door of the old house I lived so 
 hapi^ily in. 
 
 I was listening to Marion's kind welcome ; I felt 
 the soft caresses of the children on my cheek ; I told 
 Marion of my anxiety to be at home, in the pleasant 
 room I had called my own for so many years, and 
 of the four words which made me start for New York, 
 an hour and a half after hearing them. 
 
 '♦ Elessed words," replied she. " Full of blessed 
 meaning, full of mercy, and, ' His grace which faileth 
 never!' " 
 
 H 
 
CHAPTKU XXVII. 
 
 *' Pure, pure, glistening snow — chilling white snow— 
 Uh ! the want, ami the sin, and the woe. 
 Crouching to-night 'noath the beautiful snow." — Miss Ifai^ht, 
 
 IR Reginald Gordon and his brother had gone 
 f) out, that they might walk round the Mountain 
 -^ once more ere they left Montreal ; They had 
 seen the mountain city, with its mighty river sweep- 
 ing round its base, and hurrying with its wealth of 
 waters to the sea, in many phases ; iirst in its autumn 
 dress of crimson, brown and gold, and then the time 
 came when the Elm and Ash and Maple bent down 
 their lofty heads to the wintry blast, and waved 
 their leafless branches back and forth, as if impatient 
 for the snowy covering which winter ever promised, 
 ever sent. 
 
 It came at last — the pure beautiful snow, covering 
 Tip all foul things with a more gorgeous dress than 
 bride ever wore, hiding the dusty grey streets, with 
 its trailing white garments, and clothing the rough 
 black trunks, bare branches and slender twigs of the 
 leafless trees, with verdure from Heaven's gates. 
 
 Tiny was alone ; her brothers had been gone an 
 hour, and this hour she had passed watching the 
 

 ^[•rti 
 
 Jl! 
 
 l;vi)l(J 
 
 1;^ 
 
 ['I 
 
 566 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 snowflakes, as they fell so silently, filling the heart 
 with light like sunshine. 
 
 A Lombardy poplar waved its long drooping snow 
 covered branches so close to the window, that by a 
 slight effort she could have touched them. 
 
 Something in the waving white branches brought 
 her back to the Indian's hut and the great cedar 
 with its double trunk, lurking behind which Bertram 
 Percy had seen her lift the poison, and say the 
 ominous words which made him think Tiny would 
 trouble him no more forever ; no, not forever ; he 
 did not think of that ; forever, Eternity, were words 
 the meaning of which he did not dare to dwell upon. 
 
 Tiny rose from her seat, and going to the window,, 
 looked out on the white mantle, covering all things 
 like a shroud ; it was a beautiful yet eerie sight, tha 
 untrodden snow all around, the broad flakes falling^ 
 falling, embedding the garden walks and stone steps 
 leading to the piazza in front of the house. 
 
 There were prints of a man's foot on the drive 
 from the gate up to the piazza ; somehow those foot- 
 prints gave her an uneasy feeling as she looked on 
 them, she wished her brothers were at home ; it 
 could be neither of them who made these marks- 
 in the new fallen snow ; they would return together 
 as they went out,* they always did so, neither could 
 they be the prints of any of the servant's feet, they 
 never came in by the drive ; they were those of a 
 man there could be no mistake, and somehow they 
 reminded her of the short foot of Captain Percy. 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 667 
 
 tke heart 
 
 ing snow 
 that by a 
 
 3 brought 
 eat cedar 
 [i Bertram 
 1 say tho 
 iny would 
 rever ; he 
 rere words 
 well upon. 
 
 e window^ 
 
 " all things 
 
 sight, the: 
 
 es fallings 
 
 tone steps 
 
 the drive 
 [those foot- 
 (looked on 
 Ihome ; it 
 ;se marks 
 m together 
 ther could 
 feet, they 
 those of a 
 ^how they 
 *ercy. 
 
 The very thought made her shiver with a sudden 
 fear, as if he was near and could touch her. Out 
 there in the garden, the snow and moonlight made 
 everything look nearly as bright as day, but inside, 
 the room was full of shadows, the moonbeam strag- 
 g'lng through the heavy damask and lace curtains, 
 only serving to light up the portions of the apartment 
 where the bright shadow of the windows lay on the 
 crimson carpet. »., ., • ■• > v .- ; 
 
 She turned from the window that she might ring 
 for lights, and so dispel the thoughts, that even in 
 the daylight, and protected by the presence of her 
 brothers, made her cheek pale and her limbs quake. 
 She fancied that an audible sigh met her ear as she 
 moved in the direction of the bell ; involuntarily she 
 raised her head in the direction of the sound, and 
 there, in the light of the window, not two yards from 
 her side, stood Captain Percy, with folded arms and 
 pleading eyes, looking her in the face ! 
 
 He had watched for this opportunity, prowling 
 about the house every evening for many days back, 
 and he determined to make the most of it. He knew 
 that in the past, in India, in New York, in the Indian's 
 hut, he had been forgiven seventy and seven times^ 
 and he feared not, notwithstanding all that had 
 happened, to woo her back yet. 
 
 She almost shrieked with terror as she retreated 
 into the recess of the window, that so she might bo 
 as far from coming in contact wuth him as possible. 
 
 He neither spoke nor moved, but continued looking 
 
 
 i-«, : 
 
568 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 if 1 Hl-i tW^ 
 
 !i- 
 
 
 II ■■-^ 
 
 at her with fixed eyes, which in their beseeching gaze, 
 he hoped would bring back to him the love which 
 he now cursed himself for having thrown away. He 
 was dressed w^ith punctilious care, his friend Mr. 
 Sharpquill having succeeded in obtaining his clothes 
 from the poor woman, who, knowing him as a thief, 
 was willing to be rid of all that belonged to him. . 
 
 The humble pleading expression of his face and 
 attitude, revealed to her more of his sordid, low, 
 grovelling nature than all her former bitter experience 
 had been able to teach ; the love which in her girlish 
 folly had been based on nothing more stable than 
 Bertram Percy's power of honeyed words, and of 
 turning others into ridicule by his quick wit, had 
 passed from her heart as completely as such love 
 sooner or later must pass; she was able now to 
 exercise her judgment, and she saw before her the 
 man who had tyrannized over her for years; ever 
 pointing with stern finger to the duty she owed to 
 him^ yet neglecting in the most flagrant manner the 
 love and protection he had sworn to her before God's 
 altar ; the man, who had by his false tale of the 
 death of her children, and her disinheritance by her 
 loving mother, taken every hope in life away, and 
 prepared the way for the temptation to self destruc- 
 tion which he had brought her. The retrospective 
 review served her in her need, and nerved her heart, 
 even •while she physically shook with a fear she was 
 unable to control. 
 
 She was the first to speak. " What has brought 
 you here, Captain Percy ?" 
 
THE GRAND GOEDONS, 
 
 569 
 
 " The love I bear for my precious wife ; the love 
 which made all the light my life ever knew." 
 
 He came towards her, endeavoring to clasp her in 
 his arms, but she shrank back, saying in a voice 
 nerved by the fear she had of ever again touching 
 his hand — 
 
 " Do not dare to come near me, or I will bring 
 every servant in the house to my aid ; there is nothing 
 on earth which could tempt me to pollute myself by 
 allowing you to touch me." 
 
 He folded his arms again across his breast. " "When 
 I entered this house, I came but to look upon you 
 and go my way. I have again entered the Army ; 
 my regiment is under orders for India, I sail with 
 the morning light. You are well here, darling, sur- 
 rounded with every luxury, I would not take you 
 from it if I could ; I did not anticipate being able to 
 speak one word to you ; I know how your jealous 
 brothers hate me; how they and those they have 
 hired, have filled your mind with tales as false as hell 
 against one whose only crime is in being poor." 
 
 *' Did my brothers tell me that you brought poison 
 from distant Europe, and gave it to me, urging me 
 to drink, and so relieve you of the burden of my life ?" 
 
 " No ; you are right in all you say, except as to my 
 
 having brought the poison from Europe 1 obtained 
 
 the bottle I gave you, and another exactly the same, 
 Irom a friend in Montreal, who has been my heart's 
 best brother for years ; he knew my life of poverty 
 and toil, and that wearied with the hopeless strife, 
 
 ,."..4i.-.-*ii 
 

 J l 
 
 ( ' 
 
 till 
 
 m 
 
 Mi 
 
 ; , 
 
 ■m 
 
 :i «ii 
 
 
 f 
 
 670 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 I had resolved to lay it down ; he knew where I had 
 been obliged to place you, had accompanied me more 
 than onco when I w^alked from Montreal after six 
 o'clock, when my day's work was done, that I might 
 look upon the sleeping beautiful face of what I then 
 believed to be my dying wife, and throwing myself 
 on the earth for an hour of troubled sleep, returned 
 in time to commence my daily toil ; he knew also 
 the poor fevered brain which induces me at times *<> 
 do and say things, that did I not know they were the 
 offspring of disease, would make me despise and 
 loathe myself." 
 
 He here referred to a fiction he had invented, of a 
 blow received on the head w^hile a boy, which 
 he alleged affected him so as to make him act and 
 speak at times in a manner foreign to his nature ; it 
 "was a convenient falsehood, and often stood him in 
 good stead when he found it requisite to bury in 
 oblivion his violence or treachery. . 
 
 " Both bottles," continued he, " w^ere filled with a 
 harmless liquid ; after giving you one, I went to the 
 back of the cottage, and throwing myself on my 
 knees, prayed that Grod would pardon what I had 
 done, what I was about to do ; I then went back, 
 that standing concealed by the cedar tree, I might 
 see your face onco more ere death should close my 
 eyes ; you had the bottle in your hand, a look of 
 pleased peace on your face, while your lips softly 
 gave utterance to the w^ords " It is an easy way out 
 of all my troubles." " So it is, goodbye darling for 
 
r. ■':. H 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 511 
 
 an hour,' said I, as I crept softly away, " lest 1 should 
 disturb, and by my presence bring you back to an 
 existence, where we had both been destined to suffer 
 so much. 
 
 " I again lay down, and instantly swallowed the 
 contents of the boitle intended for myself. I became 
 unconscious almost immediately, only to awake in 
 an hour or two, refreshed and strengthened, to bless 
 the friend who had saved me from a great crime ; I 
 heard voices in the cottage, among which I could 
 clearly distinguish yours ; I thanked God for saving 
 us both, and took my way to Montreal." 
 
 There was so much truth in what he said, and it 
 was so artfully woven in with falsehood, that she 
 began to ask herself, if with all his crimes, she had 
 not been unjust to him in this instance ; and a feeling 
 of regret passed through her soul, as the thought 
 arose in her mind that the story of the blue bottle 
 should ever have passed her lips. 
 
 The softening expression of her face was by 
 Captain Percy attributed to the love which he had 
 so often crushed under his feet, but which would 
 rise again with a kind look, a soft word, as if it were 
 indestructible. Now was his time, her brothers might 
 come upon them at any moment ; he must excite an 
 interest in her heart which would fan into a flame 
 the dying embers of the love he believed to be still 
 there ; Tiny's house and income were better than his 
 aunt's sixteen thousand pounds seven-fold, besides 
 with Tiny by his side, would he not be sure of that 
 also. All this passed through his mind in a second. 
 
 •'I 
 
 ■w- 
 
 ;:. 
 
 
 t 
 
ll 
 
 fR ' ■ 
 
 - i 
 
 I!'- ! 
 
 •I 
 
 I 
 
 ^72 
 
 TlIK ail AND OOUDONS. 
 
 " TSIy tloarest -wifo, I liavo Ix^on })oliod to you ])y 
 ihoHO whoso Hordid iiitcroat it is to keop \ih asundor. 
 lU»liovo mo I can provo my iimocenco of all that lias 
 l>i*i'ii alloi>«>d auaiiiHt mo ; had it not boon that I was 
 conlinod <o my h(»d by raginj? t'evor, almost from tlu^ 
 hour I lust saw you in tho Indian's cottag-o, until 
 many wooks had i>assod, thoro novor could have boon 
 such a wob of falsohood wovon around mo. Darling, 
 darlinjr, forjj^ivo nu) for fronzy and weakness, which 
 aro not my fault, but my curso." 
 
 lie sprunsjc towards her, foldinsf her struffj^lini^ 
 form in his arms, and koopina^ her lirmly clasped to 
 his heart by force. All the loathinc: she had felt, in Ihe 
 long ago, in India, against the man who had so liercoly 
 urged her to write begging letters to her generous 
 mother, and when she iirmly refused to do so, forged 
 her name <o the letters her brother Robert had brought 
 "with him from Britain, that they might bo used 
 against the forger in case of need; the memory of all 
 the tyranny she had suiiered in New Yotk, when 
 Bertram Percy more than once squeezed her arm in 
 his iron grasp, until the evidence of such remained 
 for weeks, laughed at and encouraged her maid ser- 
 Tant Abigail in all her low insolence and neglect ; the 
 fear and dislike, w^hich growing for years, had now 
 become detestation ; dread ofBertram Percy, the forger 
 
 — the Bigamist the shop thief all concentrated 
 
 in unutterable loathing of the man who now dared 
 to pollute her with his caresses. 
 
 ; " Unhand me let me go instantly," she called 
 
 aloud, with all the strength she could command. He 
 
TlfK OKANI) (lORDDNS. 
 
 57.T 
 
 hocdrd her iiol, savo lo fold hor more firmly in hiH 
 iniiiH. " Kooiiijild, — U<)l»(^rt," nhn Kcrcairuid out in 
 pit^rcins? whricks, which echoed all over the houHe. 
 
 Loud 8ia.ini)in^ in the? halls arid HliiircaHeK, — loud 
 Inlkint;', — the heavy tread of irien'H feet hurryiiij^ 
 aloii«»- — cauie like HW(u?t(^Ht music tolu^r (!ar ; alruostiii 
 11u5 same instant, sht? was conscious of her brollujr 
 LN'^inald's tall ii«^ur(i tow<'rinj^ above h<ir luMid, she. 
 felt hersell HIIchI up, saw both her brotlu'rs standinj^ 
 close by the sofaon which she was laid, and Ite^inidd'H 
 voice talkinjL? in quiet d<!t(»nnined tones; C^iplnin 
 ]N^rcy Idnstering and stamrnerin*.^, as he always did. 
 wlu>n enratfed. Sh(i looked in tlu; direction that his 
 voice canio from, Sandy Mitchell and ]5rown, ^iv 
 Ive«ifinald'8 servnnf, who had been with liis master in 
 all his wandering for the last ten years, were takings 
 Captain Percy from the room ; his head was turned 
 towards her, to the last, his own inordinate self esteem 
 deceiving him, making him think that her efforts to 
 disengage herself, and attract the attention of the 
 household, were but half earnest, — the look of 
 dread and dislike, which now met his eye, shewed 
 him in one moment that from her love he had nothing 
 to expect, it had perished for ever, buried deep down 
 beneath the mountain of tyranny and crime he had 
 himself lieaped upon it. 
 
 He was scarcely prepared for this ; Tiny looked sa 
 fair and beautiful, her white face and pale brown 
 wavy hair forming such a contrast to the rich black 
 silk she wore as mourning lor her mother, and 
 
 11 
 
 •■•ft 
 
 it. 
 
 I'P 
 
 '■#' 
 
 .. M 
 
574 
 
 THE GRAND GOUDOXS. 
 
 Rf 
 
 child, so different from ilio poorly dressed half 
 paralyzed thing", with the sad unvarying expres- 
 sion of iiice he had been latterly accustomed to 
 see, that all the love and pride in her beauty 
 he ever had, came back to him within the past 
 half hour, and he could not realize that the iQdU 
 ing" should be other than reciprocal ; but the room 
 was now flooded with light, her face full in his view, 
 as she eat holding her brother Eobert by the arm, 
 seeming to claim his protection, — that w^hite face 
 betokening dislike and dread so strongly, that Bertram 
 Percy, as he looked, knew that now for all time, there 
 was a great gulf between them, which no power of 
 his could span. 
 
 AYith this conviction came hatred, strong as death, 
 revenge cruel as the grave, which he swore to him- 
 self, should end only with his life. 
 
 " You have not seen the last of me," he exclaimed 
 in a loud voice. *' Until you enter the fiery den 
 where your Hecat mother dwells, I will torment you 
 through your children." 
 
 As he spoke, his face expressed all the intense 
 hatred and desire for revenge which pervaded his 
 whole soul. 
 
 In Margaret Gordon's after-life, when accident 
 recalled Bertram Percy's face, it always w^ore the 
 expression she then looked on. 
 
 It was well for her that it was so. 
 
t^ iil* 
 
 '§^^§1 
 
 
 
 {^'SC 
 
 
 >t < 
 
 .;ni 
 
 CHAPTER XXVni. 
 
 was one of those dark rainy days that have 
 often to be endured in Scotland during the 
 month of December ; it was very muddy and 
 disagreeable up in Edinburgh, as the people in Leith 
 say, up there where there are well made broad 
 streets, doiv?i in Leith with its comparatively speak- 
 poorly made streets and narrow pavements absolutely 
 insufferable ; the rain had been drizzling, for two or 
 three days, and the mud below foot, with the drizzle, 
 drizzle, of the rain above, kept everyone within doors, 
 except those whose occupation forced them to go 
 abroad. 
 
 Captain Percy and his friend, Mr. Morrison the 
 lawyer, met on this wet disagreeable day, not far from 
 the old house from which Captain Percy had taken 
 his bride only a few years before, and to which he 
 was now directing his steps, with the intention of 
 taking up his abode, whether his wife ^"ould, or 
 whether she would not. 
 
 Both men were poorly dressed ; both had the look 
 of needy men ; they looked at each other or rather ^ 
 at each other's coats, and would rather have passed 
 by with a nod ; each man knew he himself was 
 
 I! 
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 lii 
 
 I ' 'i^ 
 
 576 
 
 THE OUAND GORDONS. 
 
 poorly dressed, that ho looked shabby, that his clothes 
 were old, his hat thread-bare, his shoes such as ho 
 would not have worn if ho could have helped it, no 
 not on any account, but each knew it would attract 
 more attention, seeing two poverty stricken indivi- 
 duals together, than it' there was only one such. 
 They were both naturally punctilious as to their 
 attire ; they had been accustomed from boyhood to be 
 well dressed, and so f(»lt more keenly the present 
 dilapidated state of their respective wardrobes. 
 
 But they had been very intimate, indeed on the 
 occasion of Captain I'ercy's last visit to Leith to 
 attend Lady Gordon's funeral, or rather to hear her 
 will read, it would have been awkward to have 
 passed with a nod after so long an absciice, besides 
 each felt the other might be useful to him, and so 
 they stopped, shook hands, asked one another if they 
 were quite well, and then spoke of the weather. 
 
 " IIow are they getting on up at the old house 
 there ?" asked Captain Percy, indicating by a motion 
 of his head, what old house he meant, w^hich indeed 
 was superfluous, as Mr. Morrison knew there was 
 only one old house in Leith which it was at all likely 
 Captain Percy would be interested in. 
 
 " Cant possibly say," w^as the reply. " The fact is 
 I have been in the country ever since I saw you last, 
 left that very night, and only returned this morning. 
 
 " "Well I w^as, in fact I was not at all well, had 
 
 been working too hard, and so I thought I w ould 
 take a few months of holidays." 
 
TlIK GRAND OORDONS. 
 
 677 
 
 " You went on Iho principle that an ounce of pro- 
 venlion is worth a pound oi' cure, eh ?" 
 
 *' Exactly, what have you boon ahout yourself?" 
 Mr. Morrison said this to chancre the conversation ; 
 he did not wish to bo closely questioned as to where 
 he had or where he had not been, during the past six 
 or eight months. 
 
 " Very little jrood ; t^'ot into a terrible mess, ])ut the 
 truth is I'm not .i^oinu,' to look back ; the past is past, 
 the iuture is all ])erore us, and we can be master of 
 the situation if we make ourselves so." 
 
 "That's so." 
 
 " 1 think I'll tell you what brouuht me here at 
 present ; we'll walk up to your ofiice." 
 
 " Well I 1 haven't an oflice just at present ; as 
 
 I knew I was to be away so long* I gave my office 
 up ; it would have been nonsense to pay rent for 
 nothing." 
 
 " Of course, well, we'll go in somewhere, but 
 
 the truth is I am short of cash just now, and besides 
 I left my purse in my overcoat in Edinburgh." 
 
 The truth was, his last shilling was spent in paying 
 for his breakfast that morning. 
 
 " Well," said Morrison, " I stand treat now and you 
 
 fork out next time, but we wont go into any of those 
 
 nobby places, they charge such deuced big prices.and 
 
 besides, I've on all the old togs I have been wearing 
 
 in the country, my luggage has not been sent from 
 
 the station yet." 
 
 M2 
 
 I 
 
 I' 
 
 ;I:W 
 
 *' 
 
 
 m 
 
 ^x,L'ii^i 
 
578 
 
 TIIIC <n{ANl) (M)Ill)ONS. 
 
 ; /I. 
 
 i 
 
 M ■*, 
 
 *' 1 (lonl ojiro imicli vvhoro I «»•() ; T want my diiiniT^ 
 that'H a Tact, aiul 1 was on my way up (o Hio oM 
 h()us«» which I (M)nsi(Ii»r my own now ; I inlondi'd lo 
 liavo (akon my dinner at liomo." 
 
 •* Wliut, liow is (hJN, I thought yon woro oloan cut 
 out?" 
 
 •• Tlio old woman <ric(l lliat, ])ut it was no j^o ; it 
 was a p^ood job Tor mo sho di(Ml, slu» hiokiMl as it kIm> 
 had seven lives, I'm sure 1 never thoujjlit I would, 
 havo seen her grave." 
 
 " IShe did look a slrong'-like old woman in church 
 or in (he st reels, I never had a ehanco of seeing her 
 anywhere else." 
 
 They had been walking on, and now slopped at 
 the door of a low public house, where thoy entered, 
 liad a cheap dinner, and ^Morrison would have had 
 something to drink after it, but Cax)taiu I'ercy 
 obiected, saving — 
 
 " I will need all my wits about me for this day, 
 perhaps I will meet you hero in tho evening aiul 
 have something, it's a teetotal place up yonder, but I 
 mean to change all that." 
 
 " You must tell mo about your good luck," said 
 Morrison. " How ilid you manage to get the will 
 broke r 
 
 *' I did not get it broke, I never tried to do so ; the 
 will stands as it did when I told you of it, and yet 
 I'm master up at the old house." 
 
 " This is a riddle, you must explain yourself ; you 
 
TllK OIUNI) (ioiMHiNS. 
 
 in 
 
 \) 
 
 (lid not look upon youvKcH' iin nnislrr wln-ii I muw 
 you IiihI., on IIh» diiy tlio will was rnid." 
 
 "No. I{(»ciinH(5 I (li<l not know flicn whiil I know 
 now; ilio truih in iliiit at thai iini<^ my vviio, I^ady 
 (Hordon'H dan^hit>r wuh ko ill, lliat vvhrii I Irl't her in 
 (/anada I <lid not ihiidv nho, vvouM live until I arriv«'d 
 h(»n», and looked on tin? will in Ihe li«,dit it woidd 
 have appeared lo n»e il' she had been dead, hut 
 instead of hein"^ dead when I went hark I jouiid her 
 much l)eti«M', an<l slu? is now stt well that I exp«'et 
 hor to coni(5 home somi; tinui this winter." 
 
 "AVhat do you say?" imjuired Morrison, in ton(!S 
 of surprise, an<l sturin*];' in his IViend's Ijumj as he 
 Kpok<^ "You do not surely mean to say that Lady 
 Gordon's daughter is alive ? I thought you" — 
 
 •' No matter what you thought," interrupted Captain 
 Percy. " 1 tell you a i)lain mattiM'-ol-l'aet story ; my 
 wile was so ill wlien 1 hd't C'aniida that when 1 was 
 here I thouiiht sln^ was dead, and when 1 went baek 
 to Canada 1 lounil her better, and she will bo home 
 sometime soon, certaiidy this winter." 
 
 " Well I never " said Morrison, in tones of wonder 
 and half admiration, thinkint^ he saw throuj^h the 
 dodge of his clever friend. " Ikit what will you do 
 if the friends wont believe that your wife is Lady 
 Gordon's daughter ?" 
 
 " All that is settled to their i:)errect satisiaction ; 
 they are quite clear on that point, and Morton the 
 lawyer and the young cub ]iobert Gordon are both 
 out in Canada ; they went on purpose to bring her 
 
 -M 
 
■Ml I. 
 
 
 
 ,1 
 
 I- 
 
 1 
 
 ■ F 
 
 11 
 
 1 
 
 11 
 
 
 
 
 i' 
 
 n 
 
 :f - -1 
 
 f.SO 
 
 I'liK <ii; \Nn (loirjoNH. 
 
 homo, nu«l iniolhojiMollnM-. wlio llioy IIkmsu'IiI IonI, is 
 (horo willi Ihoni, ii iiiiui willi \\\\ iiinu«<iiMo lorluiio, 
 i\\u\ Ihoy nro tloinjv nil Ihoy oiin, lilo* yoiwl ('ll^i^■liMn^( 
 its Ihoir iuoIIjoi'n nous nIiouM I>o, Io iry lo ]»uL(«\il 
 in \\\\ wilo's hoiid n^iuiisl mo, nn«l lo iii'iko hor ounI 
 )\io «tir, NO (liiU I niiiv no! Iitiv<' ii lioiiio iil llio old 
 luMiso, l)ul 1 NUi>|>i»N(» litis will ii<»l l»o ill llioir povvorV" 
 
 " r«Ml!Uiily iiol ; if lijoly (Jonloii's diui^hlor is 
 mHno. you Mvo onlillotl lo \\\\\ wilh your wilo; il is 
 woi so o;»Nv lo Oils! M lm,Nl)!iiMi (til' UN Hull ooiik^m lo ; 
 l»i'sidos you oouM liiko your oliiMroii if llio vvorsl. 
 i'omos lo llio \\or>l ; lliiil wouM hoou hiiiur lliom nil 
 
 lo lornis. 
 
 Wh 
 
 iM 
 
 i;it woiiM vou ndx ISO liu» »lo 
 
 I)(>)il you Ihiiik 
 il will l>o iho l>osl pliiii lo L>() III oiico lo lln* lioiiso, 
 jvud liiUo up luy nhodo Ihoro, will llu'V, nil Ihoy ^ I 
 :un s\ivtM)ld M;\rion l">unipN will rosiNJ, Ihiii w illinll 
 h*M- niiiihi. hut I d.iiosiiy 1 Inivo onoiiL>h of ii nniii 
 iihoiit mo lo ovoroom«» hor impudonoo." 
 
 " Vos," said M«>rrison, spi»!ikinn' fslowly nsifho wu« 
 ronnini;' tho m;»thM- ovor in liis own min<l, " Ihnl will 
 bo tho vory l)osi plan yoii oan lak»\ i>oss(»s,sion is nino 
 points of tho law, lako Iho bull by llu» horns, and you 
 siivo him h^ss ohanot* to liuht wi'h vou; if you aio 
 insta'lod as mastor thoro whou ^Irs. IVroy and Iho 
 broihors oonio lu>mo, thoro is h\ss chance ol' your 
 boiuii' turned out, than thoro would bo ol" your "•(»llin«»' 
 your loot in, if they woro thoro and you outsiih'. 
 
 •• It is a curious thinii*, tho brothers wishini'" to put 
 evil botwoon you antl your wilo, particuhirly as they 
 
'JllIC UllANI* (lOin»(»NH, 
 
 r,Hi 
 
 <i(» iiol coiriH iiilo llip iiilii'i ihuH *■ ; in f'HH^^ of IIk^ 
 <l«"iilh o|' yoiii' vvilf, il. ^^(M'H If) Htniif jMiMic rlmrily, 
 <loiHM it, iiol, {"' 
 
 'riiJH vviiHHiiid (iw )i, \'rf\vr. MoniKf»n <(>\\\i] not |V»r- 
 ^('1 lliiil, rii^lil, iiioiilliH IdM'k, ('(i|«l(iiM iV-rrty \\ut\ a 
 yomij,'- vvotmiii vvilli iiirri nl Kriy'n lloh-l, (W wli<»iri Iw. 
 HcriiH'M vrry loinl, iiiid vvlio vvhh inlrodiircrl to liini 
 hy ('ii|tliiiii I'cK'y mh liin vvilW ; lm would \r,i\(' liiu-d 
 nil <«x|tliiiiiilioii ol'lliiM, ImiI it. vvft.H ri'/l. (*(i|»l,ji.ifi I'crcy'M 
 iiilriilioii lo iriidu' liny fxpiiuiitlioii (>u Wn', Htil>j<Tt,, mo 
 !(►!• Ilic pit'.sfiil, llin lii,wy«'r hiid to icmI, H!iliHli<!d with 
 vviiM.l Im' liiid ln'f'ii lold, (iikint/; ih nolic<' oi Morri.Hon*K 
 <|H('Klioii UH lo lh<i Iciiiis (»!' IIh-. will, (>a]»l.;i.i/i I'^rcy 
 hnid — 
 
 •' i will ;jo now, niid JMlrodiif^' inyHi'lf to rriy futiiro 
 HM'Vfiiil.H, tliiil is lln!y will Im', ir tlicy l>clijiv»! l}i«-m- 
 sj'lvcH, ir not, <iut tin'y ^'o, (',v( ry ifiotli«'r'w hon oj' lli«;ni ; 
 I liiivc. nil old jjii'udti,<i fi^iiinst, Miidiun^ Mario/i, I'll 
 turn her to i\\r. ri<jlil, siKout, at. Juiy r!il,<; ; hli»; wa.M 
 nlwnyH tiyinj^ lod<» irn; evil with tli(! r<ld mother an'l 
 my wile both." 
 
 " ir lliid. is tli«^ CfiH(» th«; sof.n«-r sIk- is Hcni to tho 
 lij^ht uhuut J'. Ixdt*')- lor you, l.ut l>o ciircAul what 
 you do (h« old J)u(;h(!KH is not d<';id a y(ar yet, 
 uiul li II'. ty he JiU<;klish Ihintf iut ^'»'rin^' vvithHervajitn 
 or any iiliiy- cist; until tho year is uut," 
 
 "Til M.<jt (oniinit myH«di', you may he sure, hut of 
 
 coursH lh<;ro cau ho no question as to my riirht of 
 
 livini^ in the house that bfdoiigs to my wii'e i you 
 Gujfht to know that. 
 
 
 
 ;*» 
 
 J- '» 
 
 
 
! i ■ W *! 
 
 :;'!■, 
 
 ■i'l 
 
 
 !i<, ^ II 
 
 i' 1' 
 
 582 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 " There is no question about it whatever ; what 
 belong's to your wife, ought to belong to you ; you 
 may be cut ofF from using the money left to your 
 wife except what she gives you, ':ind if she does not 
 give you enough, I should call that yoi^r fault not 
 hers ; I know if I was lucky enough to ho.v a wife 
 with half the money your's hf.s, I would nev^r take 
 a pen in my hand except for amusomeni, and I 
 would take precious good care that m/ pockets were 
 alwavs well lined." 
 
 Morrison said this with a malignity of -^t,;' r. 'ion., 
 both in voice and face, that was particularly 'leasiu^; 
 to Captain Percy, as assuring him of his pcwer over 
 his wife, both to extort money from, and torment her. 
 
 " There is one thing I fear will give me trouble, 
 that is the influence which I know her brothers have 
 already acquired over her ; my own plan, is to be 
 there when they arrive, and to tell my wife that she 
 must decide between her brothers, or me and my 
 children ; where I am they must be, and I shall cer- 
 tainly never live in the same house with either of 
 her brothers." 
 
 *' That is a very good plan, follow it out, only be 
 determined enough, if you show the white feath r 
 you are done for ; at present it is all plain sailing, 
 you have only servants to deal with, they know 
 you, that you are the husband of their mistress, and 
 being her husband her master ; and then also, do not 
 excite their ill temper, if possible, but be resolved to 
 remain there to wait for your wile." 
 
 i 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 583 
 
 I 
 
 ' The friends bade each other good day, promining 
 to meet in the evening, and Captain Percy took his 
 way towards the old house, a httle nervous, although 
 he knew that he had only servants to contend with ; 
 had he known that Marion was absent, which was 
 the case, he would hp"e gone with little trouble, she 
 being the one whose face he feared to see. 
 
 As he opened the postern gate, he observed that 
 there were recent marks of wheels among the shingle 
 on the drive, and also that the grounds were laid out 
 with great care, that late as the season was, there 
 were several men working in the shrubbery and 
 gardens, that the conservatory had undergone a 
 complete renovation, and on coming near he saw 
 that the latter was filled with flowers ; everything 
 about and around the house spoke of the time when 
 he first saw it, when he went there to woo the one 
 he had so often since then, tormented almost unto 
 death, the one who he now hated with undying hate. 
 
 A i^lant of gum cistus in full blossom attracted his 
 attention, its pure white wax-like petals lying on 
 the broad green and brown shining leaves, in all 
 the beauty which has gained for it the name of 
 Christmas-rose ; he remembered this last flower of 
 the year as an especial favorite of Margaret Gordon's, 
 and he could not resist the temptation of crushing it 
 deep into the earth with his heel. 
 
 He looked at his work well pleased, the white 
 petals, pistils, and stamens torn and bleeding, soiled 
 and crushed into the black damp earth. *' This is a 
 
 '.?Mi 
 
 
 ...M 
 
 *l 
 
',1 '• 
 
 584 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 It i 
 
 if-i 
 
 !i il 11 
 
 good omen," soliloquized he. " So perish all the 
 enemies of Bertram Percy." 
 
 He walked up to the hall door with more courage 
 than he had entered the gate; he knocked at the 
 door, a loud knock — and as he did so, he smiled in 
 fiendish glee at the triumph he was now achieving 
 over the dead mother and the living child — the 
 wife who he swore to himself when he had received 
 the last farthing of money which was her's to give, 
 h would do unto death by slow yet sure means. 
 
 aoor was opened by one to whom he was a 
 Btran^v., a servant man in plain clothes, not a girl 
 who for several years previous to Lady Gordon's 
 death had held the place. *' Ha !" said he, " Mistress 
 Tiny is determined to enjoy life ; when the year is 
 out I wull teach her to economise." * 
 
 He walked past the servant without saying one 
 word. 
 
 *' Who shall I say. Sir ?" demanded the man. 
 
 " You need not announce me ; I am master here," 
 was the reply. 
 
 The servant stared at the shabbily dressed man, 
 who, he saw, notwithstanding his soiled and worn 
 clothes, was a gentleman, walk coolly ux)stairs and 
 ^nter the great drawing room. 
 
 Captain Percy took this as another good omen. 
 " The gods are on my side to-day, my star is in the 
 ascendant ; who shall question my right here now ?" 
 His courage was at its height ; he almost wished that 
 Marion would make her appearance that he might 
 
if-' 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 585. 
 
 enjoy her look of helpless blank astonishment, when 
 she saw he had come to take possession, in right of 
 his wife. 
 
 He entered the grand drawing room. " Ha !" 
 
 There had been a complete renovation here also; 
 the faded crimson damask was gone, and in its place 
 curtains and sofas of richest purple and gold, 
 made the room resplendrjit in the sunshine, which 
 came flooding the room with departing light, after 
 the rain on the short winter's day. 
 
 He threw himself down on one of the sofas ; he 
 was fatigued, and the spring seat and soft pillows 
 formed a luxurious bed ; he lay with his face towards 
 the windows where the sunshine came in, his feet, 
 soiled and wet, covered with shoes worn into holes, 
 placed against the satin covering of the opposite 
 arm of the sofa; he was prepared to enjoy himself, 
 produced a cigar from his pocket and coolly com- 
 menced smoking, smiling to himself as he thought 
 of the rage of Lady Gordon, could she see him now. 
 
 The spaces between the three windows were 
 occupied by large mirrors, placed on white slabs of 
 Carara marble, beautifully carved statuettes, Neptune 
 and Venus rising from the sea, forming their supports. 
 The frames of the mirrors were made to resemble 
 w^ater lilies drooping amid their foliage, sea-shell con- 
 nected the wreaths at top and bottom, the gilding of 
 which glistened with dazzling light in the wintry 
 sun. 
 
 Bertram Percy had an eye for the beautiful, and 
 
 «■ , 'I 
 
 
 ^^Hl,.- 
 
 
 ■4' 
 
 (. ' 
 
 jM 
 
 A i^ili 
 
586 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 :m' 
 
 n 
 
 . ! 
 
 
 It: 
 
 s I 
 
 while he deprecated the expense which had been 
 incurred to adorn the home his wife was to return 
 to, he could not help admiring the taste which had 
 displaced the stiflf old looking glasses, and placed 
 those magnificent mirrors with their flower wreath 
 frames and marble statuary in their stead. 
 
 As he looked, something black seemed to move in 
 the far depth of the mirror nearly opposite the sofa 
 where he lay, his heart beat with accelerated pace as 
 the black object, assuming a woman's shape of stately 
 mien with long trailing dress, came towards him ; his 
 unfinished cigar fell from his hand, his dilated eyes 
 staring on the woman's figure, with deadly fear 
 making his coward heart to quake. 
 
 On and on it came, with a slow and measured 
 pace, its great dark eyes which seemed to emit an 
 unearthly light fixed on his face ; his heart beat in 
 wild throbs ; nearer and nearer it came, the horrible 
 phantom — the thing from the dead — as surely as ever 
 he saw Lady Gordon in life, did he see her face then 
 — clad in the grey hue of the grave, where he knew 
 she had lain so long — his heart stood still — great 
 drops of sweat coursed each other down his face and 
 neck — the spirit was close to the face of the mirror 
 framed round by the golden wreath, its eyes filled 
 w^ith a look of dire vengeance fixed on his face — the 
 dwful thing of fear and horror moved on towards 
 him, a thousand times more horrible in those black 
 robes as he had seen her in life, than if the dead face 
 had come, borne above the habiliments of the grave ; 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 687 
 
 id been 
 return 
 lich had 
 i placed 
 r wreath 
 
 move in 
 the sofa 
 [i pace as 
 of stately 
 him ; his 
 ited eyes 
 idly fear 
 
 an instant more she was' surrounded by phantoms 
 blacker, with paler faces more awful than herself, 
 and they seemed legion, one ghastly head with forked 
 hair white as snow, towering above the others. 
 
 Human nature could bear it no longer, and with a 
 wild shriek he sprang to his feet, his back towards 
 the mirror, that he might rush from the room, ere 
 those things of dread and horror could reach where 
 he stood, and tear him limb from limb, or worse still 
 sweep him from the earth, clothed in his living body, 
 to the abode of spirits, who, like himself, had done 
 evil, and that continually. 
 
 Horror ! in turning from the mirror, he had come 
 face to face with the things of dread. 
 
 Lady Gordon standing within a few yards of 
 where his own trembling fear-distraught body stood. 
 Seaton of Thurlow, and Peter Farquharson of Alder- 
 lee, with his long grey hair as white as snow, beside 
 and behind her ! 
 
 .(, ,. t 
 
 •' ;^:|! 
 
 w 
 
 
 grave ; 
 
 
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AM 
 
 -**i 
 
 
 ^%^u^ 
 
 
 >*♦- 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 ^E must now retrace our steps in this story, 
 so that our reader may understand how it 
 ^tk>u ig possible that Captain Percy could meet 
 Lady Gordon in the old house, either in the body 
 or out of the body. • 
 
 It will be remembered that on "Wednesday mornini^ 
 at two o'clock, when Miss St. Clare went to bid 
 goodbye to Marion, she found that the housekeeper 
 was not in bed, nor had she been during- the night. 
 Miss St. Clare concluded that Marion had gone to 
 bid good bye to her brother, but it was not so. 
 
 On Tuesday night Marion felt troubled and nervous, 
 constantly thinking of her mistress ; when the others 
 retired to rest she felt that it would be impossible 
 for her to sleep ; she could not even sit in her chair 
 for a half hour at a time ; she did not attempt to rest 
 in her bed, she knew such would be futile ; she 
 heard each hour strike, ten, eleven, twelve, and then 
 sitting in her chair, she slept an uneasy and troubled 
 sleep, in which she saw Lady Gordon lying in her 
 coffin and her body turned on its side ! 
 
 She awoke to complete consciousness, with a wild 
 fear lest some great and dreadful mistake had been 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 589 
 
 made; she well remembered Lady Gordon's assever- 
 ation long after the Doctor had declared she could 
 not live, " I will do all as if I had an assurance that 
 I must die as the Doctor says, but I cannot feel that 
 it is true ; I have no feeling of what I have always 
 conceived to be death." 
 
 She started up, and snatching a shawl, threw it 
 over her head, taking her way to the passage which 
 led to the door of the house nearest to the stables ; 
 as she passed the hall clock she saw and noted that 
 it was within ten minutes to two. 
 
 {She knew the coachman would be preparing to 
 take Miss St. Clare to the railway depot, and she 
 found him ready, his horse in a light covered carriage, 
 all in waiting. 
 
 " AVhat is the matter, Mrs. Mitchell ? is any body 
 sick ?" asked the man, alarmed by her pale face, and 
 her coming to the stable yard at that early hour. 
 
 " No, James, there is nobody sick, but I have had 
 the most awful dream about her Ladyship ; I could 
 not rest last night, and I was not in my bed, but 
 sleeping in my chair ; I saw her turned in her coffin ; 
 come with me, James, if you drive hard we can be at 
 the mausoleum and back in time for you to take Miss 
 St. Clare to the depot." 
 
 " I'll go with you to the mausoleum if Miss St. 
 Clare should never go to the depot ; besides her trunks 
 are there, it's not far off, she can walk, and Mr. 
 Morton's coming to go to Grlasgow with her ; jump 
 in, Mrs. Mitchell, if the half of your dream is true, 
 we're too long here." 
 
 '>: l\ 
 
 
590 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 
 !• 'liH 
 
 III- 
 
 "Put that round you," continued he, th owing- 
 into the carriage a couple of carriage blankets, as he 
 saw the woman shiver with cold in the bleak morn- 
 ing air. *' You have the key ?" ' 
 
 "Oh! yes, here it is." '■ 
 
 The man drove swii'tly along the broad walk lead- 
 ing to the mausoleum, which was built in a grove of 
 trees about a mile and a half from the house. 
 
 As they hurried along, the thoughts of both Marion 
 and the coachman, an old and valued servant of the 
 house, ran in the same train ; they both thought, 
 with awe akin to horror, of the dread Lady Gordon 
 had always expressed of being buried alive, of her 
 explicit command that the cover of her coffin should 
 be loft open until signs of decay evinced themselves 
 on the body. 
 
 And they each remembered as they looked on the 
 dead face of their mistress, how the thought occurred 
 each visit they paid to her bier, " how like life, how 
 unlike death !" 
 
 If they should find it so, that the body had really 
 turned in the coffin, how could they ever forgive 
 themselves for not giving utterance to the thoughts 
 which arose in their hearts ? Yet others, those of her 
 own kindred, had noticed and commented on this 
 very fact, and what came of it ? Their words wore 
 uttered, and the sound died away on the ear, and the 
 remembrance thereof at the same time. 
 
 The key turns in the door of the mausoleum ; the 
 man and woman enter ; they api)roach the open. 
 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 591 
 
 coffin; the body of Lady Gordon is turned on its left 
 side, the right hand clasping the edge of the coIIin ! 
 
 For one moment they gaze on each other in speech- 
 less horror the next Marion has removed the 
 
 cloth which covers the face, a slight moisture is on 
 the brow and cheek. 
 
 They do not speak, no, not one word, but they act 
 as much in concert as if they possessed two bodies 
 and one soul. 
 
 Marion strips off her flannel underskirt ; it is put 
 on the body, which feels soft and flexible, not stiff 
 and hard, as it did yesterday and the day before, and 
 every day since she died until now ; the man's warm 
 overcoat is taken off and wrapped round his dead 
 mistress. 
 
 The shawl which Marion had snatched up as she 
 left the house, is carefully put over the head and 
 shoulders, and the body is lifted into the carriai>e> 
 held tightly in Marion's arms, covered up with the 
 carriage blankets. 
 
 The wheels run smoothly along the soft grassy 
 sward which covers the seldom trodden path, Marion 
 hears an audible sigh, and the old coachman catches 
 a fervent "thank God," as it passes from Marion's 
 lips up to the throne on high. 
 
 Hours after, Lady Gordon awoke as i om a deep 
 sleep. For days and weeks her life hung on a thread ; 
 she was unconscious of aught save a long illness ; she 
 w^as told of Miss St. Clare having gone in search of 
 Mrs. Percy, and felt pleased that it was so, sayings 
 " I am sure she will be successful." 
 
 'M' 
 
 .>v\ 
 
 s 
 
 ■ r 
 
 ; f 
 
 1; 
 
 i^:i.M 
 
::: \'\ 
 
 592 
 
 TIIK UKANl) (JOIIDONS. 
 
 The month of Aui»'ust had como with its jj^oklon 
 liTaiu aiitl nu'llovv i'niit, oiv ilio doctor diMMiicd itwiso 
 to iiilorm liady CJordoii that Inn* funeral oh.se(|uios 
 had boon pcri'oriucd ; tluit sslio had lain as ono dead 
 lor ,six days, and that during" two days a .1 house- 
 hold had worn mourning' I'or thoir mistress. 
 
 Tu the month of Octoher, Miss St. Clare's letters 
 T\'ero re('('ive«l, inlbrminuf Sir Kol)ert, {Seaton of 
 Thurlow, and Marion, that Mrs. Percy was Ibund, but 
 that Ibr two years back she had deemed her mother 
 an inhabitant of the "ruve. 
 
 Lady Gordon had prevented Mr. Morton from 
 inlbrming Miss. St. Clare of her Ladyship's l)eing in 
 life, ibr several months, as she feared that beint»' 
 aware of this, mii^lit make her less anxi' 's in the 
 search for !Mrs. Tercy, fancying that Lj Gordon 
 Avould herself, on her restoration to health, come at 
 once to Canada, for the purpose of iinding her 
 dauiihter, as she had fcn-merly intended to go to India, 
 which of course would have been the case. 
 
 "When she found that Tinv was under the impression 
 that her mother's death had taken jilace two years 
 previous, she judged it best not to undeceive her, as 
 in her nervous state, it might cause excitement 
 which would be highly prejudicial, and materially 
 impede her recovery. 
 
 Thus it was that Major Seaton, w^hen he left his 
 Scottish home immediately upon his sister's marriage, 
 which took place a few^ days after Lady Gordon's 
 su^jposed death, knew nothing of her being still 
 
THK cmAxn nonnoN;^. 
 
 503 
 
 alive \vh«Mi h«^ first spoko to Sir Kciifinalcl Gordon 
 oil thn Rubjocf, nor wan h(> ini'oriiu'd of the iaot until 
 his departure for Nova Scotia, the day after Mrs. 
 I'ercy left the convent, to become an inmate of her 
 brother'tt house. 
 
 The same reason made it prudent to conooal the 
 joyful tidings from Miss St. Clare, until «he had 
 decided to return home in advance of the others, 
 when Mr. Morton whispered to her the four words, 
 *' Lady Gordon is alive," which decided her in 
 commencing her journey home that night. 
 
 15y the middle of December, Lady Gordon's health 
 was better than it had be ii for vears, she had as the 
 reader is aware, made many preparations in expect- 
 ation of her daughter's return ; she had received 
 letters from both her sons informing her that they 
 were at Liverpool on their \\ ay home. 
 
 Sir "William and Lady Hamilton were her guests, 
 so that Tiny might enjoy the companionship of her 
 early friend, Mary Seaton, on her lirst return to her 
 home. 
 
 Seaton of Thurlow and Peter Farquharson, had 
 come from Edinburgh, to obtain her Ladyship's 
 signature to some deeds which had been drawn out 
 in favor of her son liobert, who had now to resiiru 
 his title and estates in favor of his elder brother. 
 
 Lady Gordon and her guests were seated in the 
 inner drawing room, the rainy day in December on 
 which Captain Percy and his frijnd Mr. Morrison 
 met so opportunely in Leith ; Tiny and her brothers 
 
 if 
 
 I I 
 
 
 M 
 
 'M 
 
 
 M 
 
594 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 m\ 
 
 were expected by the evening train, and the guests 
 of the afternoon were pressed by her Ladyship to 
 remain and welcome home the dear and long lost.' 
 
 Leonora and Charlie were schooled many times by 
 Marion and their French nurse, as to how they were 
 to greet their Mamma upon her arrival, but the 
 instructions they received were so contradictory, 
 that it seemed little probable they would be able to 
 act out the desires of either, which upon the whole 
 was perhaps quite as well. 
 
 Lunch had been served in the inner drawing room ; 
 Lady Gordon was reading the last letter she had 
 received from her eldest son, in which he said> 
 " Without telling Tiny absolutely that she will see 
 you alive and well upon her return home, I think it 
 will be well to prepare her mind in some measure 
 for the event, in case the surprise might be too great. 
 She so often says, * My faith used to be so strong 
 that Mamma would be the first to welcome me ; how 
 shall I bear to see the door open, and know that I 
 can never see her face for evermore ?' " 
 
 Lady Gordon had read thus far, when a loud rap 
 at the outer door announced the arrival of some one 
 who felt himself of consequence, or knew his coming 
 would be fraught with pleasure to those he wished 
 to see. 
 
 Her Ladyship stopped and looked up, as if she 
 expected some one to enter. A slow uncertain step 
 on the staircase, along the hall, into the grand 
 drawing-room. 
 
guests 
 ship to- 
 lost.' 
 
 mes by 
 jy were 
 but the 
 .dictory, 
 s able to 
 3 whole 
 
 g room i 
 she had 
 he S8id> 
 will see 
 
 think it 
 measure 
 
 )0 great, 
 strong 
 
 le ; how 
 that I 
 
 [oud rap 
 
 )me one 
 
 coming 
 
 wished 
 
 if she 
 
 lin step 
 
 grand 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 r)05 
 
 The servant entered. " A gentleman has gone into 
 the drawing-room who refuses to give his name, and 
 walked updiairs unbidden." 
 
 Her ladyship looked through one of the doors on 
 either side of the fire place which formed an entrance 
 into each room from the other. Reflected in one of 
 the large mirrors she beheld Captain Percy enter, 
 and throwing himself on one of the sofas, produce a 
 cigar which he coolly lit and commenced smoking. 
 
 Her heart never failed her for one moment. By 
 Miss St. Clare she had been made aware of all his 
 recent misdeeds, that he was a fugitive from justiccr 
 a bigamist, a shop thief, and she was perfectly aware 
 that had the smallest child who crossed his path on 
 his way to her house, whispered " Lady Gordon is 
 alive, you will see her in the old house," his footstep 
 had never crossed her threshold. 
 
 Lady Gordon attracted the attention of her gue.sls 
 by silently pointing in ihe direction of the mirror ; 
 they as well as herself were fully aware of the 
 hallucination which directed the man's stops lo 
 Kockgirtislc House, and either of the gentlemon 
 present would at once have removed him from the 
 house, without reference to her Ladyshii^, but that 
 on looking at the cool self-possession she maintained, 
 they were at a loss to know whether or not such a 
 proceeding would be pleasing to her. 
 
 " k>hall I tell him he is not wanted here, and have 
 him taken care of?" asked Seaton of Thurlow. 
 " No," replied her Ladyshii^. " 1 shall do so myself, 
 
 
 n4 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 Mi 
 
506 
 
 THE (HIAND GORDONS. 
 
 i :' 
 
 i'i 
 
 f i:t 
 
 ■i ■ 
 
 more etToctiially than any other can ; something' tells 
 me it is the last time he and I will ever meet, until 
 the (lay when the dead, small and great, stand before 
 God ; he knows naught of my being alive, or he 
 would not be here, not so soon. I should r'^her his 
 punishment came from another hand than mine." 
 
 8he rose, and motioning to Mr. Seaton and Peter 
 Farquharson to follow her, slowly walked into the 
 room whore Bertram Percy lay smoking, so much at 
 his ease ; the reader is already i are of the effect her 
 entrance seen in the mirror had on him, who had 
 every reason to believe that for man;- months past 
 she was an inhabitant of the grave. 
 
 Ere the shriek he gave as he sprang to his feet 
 had ceased echoing through the apartment. Lady 
 Gordon w^as seated with arms crossed on her bosom, 
 and eyes in which contempt and pity strove for the 
 mastery, gazing on the ill-dressed, mud-splashed, 
 damp, almost shoeless figure before her ; a feeling of 
 thankfulness rising in her soul that Tiny was spared 
 the painful spectacle on which she looked. 
 
 " Bertram Percy," she began, " when I saw you 
 last, I bade you never come again into my presence; 
 never again to invade the peace of my dwelling- 
 what evil chance has sent you here ?" 
 
 He was now sure that it w^as no phantom in whose 
 presence he stood, but he never for one moment enter- 
 tained the idea that Lady Gordon was the woman 
 who sat and looked vriih. her stately presence, si)oke 
 with her voice, dressed in her robe of costly velvet, 
 
;i'M 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 597 
 
 
 and rich point lace lappets falling over her black 
 hair down on her shoulders; he never lor one 
 moment doubted that Lady Gordon of Kockgirtisle 
 was sleeping soundly in the mausoleum down yonder 
 among the great elms and pine trees ; he knew that 
 Lady Gordon had a sister, the wife of a Russian 
 noble, whom he had once seen, and he believed the 
 woman who now looked on him, as if her eyes could 
 search into his soul, to be the Countess Zallie. It is 
 true his recollection went back to a woman of fair 
 complexion, and less stately mien than the one he 
 saw before him, and who so exactly resembled Lady 
 Gordon, but this was the only solution he could find, 
 and he adopted it. 
 
 He drew his under lip into his mouth for a second 
 or two, crushing it beneath his teeth, as if this would 
 help him to solve the dilemma in which he was 
 placed, at last summoning courage, he exclaimed in 
 a fierce tone — 
 
 " When I saw you last, you had no power to forbid 
 my presence here, and I have to be told what good 
 the Countess Zallie expects to effect by treating me 
 with such rudeness in my wife's house, my own 
 house T 
 
 Lady Gordon's large dark eyes never for a moment 
 relaxed their hold on his, and he quailed beneath 
 her glance, as every second that passed was forcing 
 upon him the conviction, that the woman he hated 
 and feared more than any man or woman he had 
 ever known, was before him, in some mysterious way, 
 in the body. 
 
 t, 
 
508 
 
 THK OUANT) O OR DONS. 
 
 !- 
 
 !^ 'l 
 
 )< l-li 
 
 i1- 
 
 !»!'■ 
 
 1K» hiul not soon lior as sho lay in tho doaihiiko 
 r;vtnlo]>lic lit ; ho saw no inlorniont ; ho was not ihoro 
 \\]\on Iho I'nnoral procossion niov«Hl ott" and a wild 
 idoa s(>i/od him that tho doatli ho had hoard of was 
 a ]>rotonco, iho will a iiction, to deprive) him of his 
 riuht to a shnro of hor fortuno as Iho husband of hci- 
 only dauiihlor ; this passod throuoh his mind in n 
 sooond of timo. Lady Gordon spoko — 
 
 " lioriram Porcy, you know that I am Lady ( Jordon, 
 not tho Countoss Zallio ; you also know that this 
 houso is miuo, not Tiny's, nnd woro it h(»r's to-morrow, 
 a fi'lon could have no riuht ovor it ; you aro a man 
 undor Iho ban of tho law, and ns such I order you to 
 leave my houso and onlor it a<»ain nin'cr." 
 
 Tho man was desperate; he had not a sliillin!:»^ to 
 pay for a bed or to buy a meal to satisfy his hunger, 
 and looking Lady Gordon in tho facjo, ho said — 
 
 " I demand my children ; I will not leave this 
 house until they go with mo." 
 
 lie saw the color rise in hor pale face — Ila ! he had 
 hor now, through them he wouM triumph ; he would 
 be master in tho old house yet, and he would rule 
 over them all with a rod of iron. 
 
 Lady Gordon rose from her seat and turning to 
 Mr. Farquharson, said " I am weary of all this ; you 
 will arrange it better than I can ; pray get that man 
 out of the house as soon as possible." 
 
 • As her Ladyship finished speaking, a servant 
 entered with a telegram which he presented to his 
 mistress. Lying on the salver, with the telegram mark 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 r>oa 
 
 upwarclH, Captaiu Percy saw what it was, and at 
 oiKvo j^ucHsed its contents, and also from whom it 
 <:iiine ; it was handed by her Ladyship to Mr. 
 1^'arquharson, saying as she did so with an inquiring 
 lone " Five o'clock ?" 
 
 "No" was the answer, as he read the telejxrain, 
 " seven." 
 
 Captain Percy nnderstood the moanini*' of those 
 words as well as the persons who nttered them, ho 
 had calculated that Mrs. Percy would be at home on 
 the morrow ; well pleased he heard she would arrive 
 that evening ; with her and his children both in the 
 liouse, the game would be in his own hands. 
 
 lie was in a fierce insolent mood ; the telegram 
 had given him fresh hopes ; come what would, he 
 need never want lor money while these rich Gordons 
 had it ; they were in his power, not he in th<;irs. A 
 lelon, — he laughed to think of sueh poor threats ; he 
 well knew, none better, that these proud Gordons 
 would freely spend thousands ere they would allow 
 one who had ever any connection with them, V»e 
 under the fangs of the law for such a crime as theft ; 
 he knew there was another crime for which he was 
 amenable to the law of the land, but he could defy 
 them there, and ho hugged himself, as he thought 
 of the impossibility of their ever being able to bring 
 that home to him. 
 
 Tiny would be here to-night ; where his wife and 
 children w^ere, he would be, or he should know the 
 reason why ; il they wanted to be free oi him they 
 

 600 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 M'-.r\ 
 
 (.('S 
 
 I ' ', 
 
 
 would have to buy that freedom at a large price ; he- 
 would take no niggard sum, and then there was 
 something they could not buy; he must see that, 
 proud woman humbled before him in the dust ; this 
 
 would be better than if he had found her dead the 
 
 house empty. 
 
 Lady Gordon was leaving the room; his innate 
 insolence could not allow this to be unnoticed, and 
 with a voice and look the concentration of bitter 
 impertinence, he said, as if in reply to what she had 
 spoken to Mr. Farquharson — 
 
 " If you are wearied, Madame Gordon, you may 
 go now, but you will have to return quickly to sue 
 for terms with me." 
 
 Lady Gordon's face, figure, or motion gave no sign 
 that his words were heard ; she passed slowly into 
 the inner drawing room, followed to the door by Mr. 
 Seaton, who, closing it, returned to the middle of 
 the room where he had left Mr. Farquharson and 
 Captain Percy, saying to the former — 
 
 " Now do your duty." 
 
 Mr. Farquharson thus called upon, took from his 
 coat pocket a bundle of papers tied with red tape, 
 from which, selecting one, he said — 
 
 " Captain Percy, I here accuse you of the crime of 
 bigamy." 
 
 " It is a lie," was the reply, uttered in a loud 
 voice, the tones of which would have been startling, 
 were they not half choked with anger. 
 
 Mr. Far<iuharson selected a paper from those her 
 
THE GRAiND GORDONS. 
 
 601 
 
 e; he- 
 ! was 
 9 that. 
 ; ; this. 
 — the 
 
 innate 
 
 d, and 
 
 bitter 
 
 le had 
 
 u may 
 to sue 
 
 10 sign 
 
 lly into 
 
 3y Mr. 
 
 Idle of 
 
 m and 
 
 )m his 
 tape, 
 
 ime 
 
 of 
 
 loud 
 ftling, 
 
 Ise hor 
 
 held in his hand, and presented it to Captain Percy. 
 
 It was his marriage certificate with Abigail Smith ! 
 For a moment he was stunned, but remembering the 
 advice of his friend, " If you show the white feather 
 you are done for," he plucked up courage. Brooklyn, 
 New York, was a long way off; much might be 
 done before this could be proved to be the genuine 
 signature of these gentlemen ; much might be done 
 now, he thought, as he glanced towards the fire, 
 burning brightly within a few yards of where he 
 stood. The thought was hardly conceived when it 
 was executed ; in a second the certificate was a light 
 grey wavy thing carried up the chimney amid the 
 smoke ! 
 
 He turned with a smile of triumph towards the 
 two quiet looking men who had now seated them- 
 selves, as if they expected their business would 
 occupy some time. 
 
 " So perish all the enemies of Bertram Percy," 
 exclaimed he, using his favorite aphorism. " That 
 certificate is false as hell, the signature a lie, and both 
 of you know it to be such ; if you did not, you would 
 not sit so calmly there seeing it destroyed." 
 
 There appeared to himself some truth in his last 
 observation. 
 
 " You are mistaken," was Mr. Farquharson's cool 
 reply. '* The document you have just burned, was 
 a duplicate, of which I have several ; there is another,'* 
 continued he, laying down a second certificate upon 
 the table by which he sat ; " you can examine at your 
 

 602 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 F*; 
 
 n 
 
 1 :V' 
 
 V '■ I 
 
 leisure, and destroy it or not as you please. I have 
 been too long accustomed to deal with gentlemen of 
 your calibre, not to understand exactly how far they 
 may, and how far they may not, be trusted with such 
 perishable things as paper and ink." 
 
 *' And now," continued he, in the same cool strain 
 as ho had iirst spoken, " here are other documents 
 for you to examine, corroborative of the certificate of 
 marriage, and in order to prevent your taking unneces- 
 sary trouble, let me draw your attention to the fact 
 of their being also duplicates." ' 
 
 Captain Percy looked at the papers placed in order 
 before him ; they consisted of affidavits from Doctor 
 Tollman, his clerk and verger, also from the two 
 witnesses who signed the certificate, as being present 
 at the ceremony of his marriage with Abigail Smith, 
 all plain matter of fact statements about which there 
 could be no quibbling ; there was no door to creep 
 out; he crushed his lip with even more than his 
 usual vehemence ; he was at fault 
 
 " You see," said the lawyer, " we have spared 
 neither trouble nor expense ; these few documents, 
 together with the American and Canadian warrants, 
 which enable me to arrest and commit you to prison, 
 either in the United States, Britain or Canada, cost 
 close on five hundred pounds, exclusive of my own 
 bill, which I must make a large one on account of 
 the anxiety the case gave me ; to be sure we made 
 free use of the cable, kept it at work for nearly a 
 whole day, but then we had the satisfaction of know- 
 
THE GRAND OOKDONS. 
 
 603 
 
 inrr 
 
 when all was finished, that everything was 
 arranged according to the law of both countries ; 
 there was noi loop hole, which a wily desperate man 
 like you would be sure to avail himself of. We have 
 been expecting you here lor some days back ; we 
 knew you would come, and not give us the trouble 
 to unearth you from your hole. So by exerting our- 
 selves and spending Lady Grordon's money freely, 
 (which to her is a bagatelle, you know she is enor- 
 mously rich ; she always was, and within the last six 
 months, she and the Countess Zallie have between 
 them divided upward of a million of money, the for- 
 tune of a brother who died in India,) we had all 
 things cut and dry, ready for you eight days back." 
 
 As Mr. Farquharson finished speaking, he went to 
 a side table, and taking therefrom writing materials, 
 placed them before Mr Seaton, saying — 
 
 " I will thank you, in your capacity of Justice of 
 the Peace, to make out a warrant for the apprehension 
 of Bertram Greorge Percy, at my instance." 
 
 Captain Percy saw he was now in the toils ; that 
 of his own accord he had walked into the net which 
 had been so carefully spread for him ; he glanced 
 at the door, a furtive glance, but it did not escape 
 the notice of the wary lawyer, who in fact was 
 watching for it ; he knew the desperate man would try 
 to escape ; the window was out of the question ; it is 
 true they all reached to the flooring of the room, and 
 opened out on a balcony, but the balcony was twenty 
 feet from the ground, the latter covered with a deep 
 
 F-( 
 
 !'': 
 
604 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 m ¥^ 
 
 r, ) 
 
 "Is b: i- 
 
 bed of shingle ; no one would be mad enough to 
 attempt escape in that direction ; a second glance at 
 
 the door a slight movement of the body told the 
 
 lawyer his captive was ready to make a bolt ; he 
 looked up from the papers which were strewn on 
 the table, and turning to Captain Percy, removing 
 his spectacles as he spoke, said, in the same tone of 
 voice he would have used if he had been asking him 
 to take a chair — 
 
 " Pray do not trouble yourself to move ; the men 
 servants are all outside that door ; and it is locked !'* 
 
 Captain Percy's craven cowardly nature now 
 asserted its right ; his heart sank with fear ; he saw 
 before him all the horrors of long years spent in 
 confinement and toil, perhaps to end only with his 
 life ; these Scotch people (and he cursed the whole 
 race as the thought passed through his mind) were 
 so united, they would be sure to band together in 
 order to punish to the utmost, one who had outraged 
 the decencies of life, broken the marriage vow, 
 incarcerated his wife in a living tomb, as he had 
 done. He cast in his mind how to escape, at any 
 sacrifice, in any way ; nothing too low, too mean, to 
 which he would not stoop, so that he might be a free 
 man again, free if even in hunger and rags. What ! 
 he who never of his own will remained an hour 
 inside the house in his life, except to play cards or 
 billiards, to be shut up within prison, or worse still, 
 dock yard walls for life, even the thought was enough 
 to drive him mad. 
 
 !> , ii 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 605 
 
 v!! 
 
 He had time to think it all over ; Mr. Seatoii was 
 filling up the warrant for his apprehension, a long 
 printed paper, with here and there a name, or a line 
 or two of writing, which with 8eaton of Thurlow^ 
 was no every day w^ork, at home he had a clerk who 
 did such things for him ; it is true Peter Farquharson 
 could have filled up the paper, ready for signature, 
 in a few minutes, with him a pen was merely an 
 elongation of his lingers, which he hud rather use 
 than not, but, occupied in arranging the papers, he 
 did not think of ottering to do it, and so Mr. Seatou 
 toiled slowly on. 
 
 Captain Percy mentally sw^ore great oaths at his 
 own stupidity, in having thus thrown himself into 
 the Lion's den, and Morrison, he cursed and ground 
 his teeth as he thought of him, a lawyer by profession, 
 surely he ought to have known better, and true to 
 his revengeful nature, at the moment that he was 
 himself on the edge of the pit, in the slough of 
 despond, he was forming plans of vengeance against 
 his companion in iniquity, who had helped him to 
 the best of his ability and knowledge 
 
 A question put by Mr. Seaton to the lawyer, 
 brought back the wretched man's thoughts to himself, 
 and the danger he was in ; he knew he had no 
 mercy to expect from these men ; they looked upon 
 his punishment as less than he deserved ; the only 
 one to whom he could turn with a ray of hope was 
 Lady Gordon ! — the one who within the hour he had 
 insulted so grossly whose money in the early 
 
 
 
 >n 
 

 606 
 
 THK GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 .:! 
 
 I ; 
 
 days of his marriage he had obtained by falsehood 
 
 to squander on his vices, whose beloved child ho 
 
 had neglected, tormented, goaded almost to madness, 
 shut up in the hut of a savage, declared dead two 
 years previous, she whom he hated as he hatod 
 
 everything good, and great, and noble, yes, to 
 
 her he must sue ; her woman's nature was his only 
 
 chance he would abase himself in anyway 
 
 crawl at her feet in the dust promise anything 
 
 so that he might escape the prison the toil 
 
 the coarse fare he hated, and that even now in 
 
 his dire extremity his sensual soul thought of; yes,. 
 this was his latest chance 
 
 " I want to speak to Lady Grordon," he almost 
 gasped out, addressing Mr Farquharson. 
 
 " It is a pity," replied the lawyer, " you did not 
 say all you wanted to say while she was here ; hen- 
 Ladyship will hardly be inclined to renew the 
 interview^ which was not at all agreeable while it 
 lasted." 
 
 lie could have felled the lawyer to the earth ; his 
 manner, more than his word, showed that to liim^ 
 Bertram Percy was as much a prison bird, a con- 
 demned criminal, as he w ould be w^hen he was led 
 out to herd among his fellows in crime ; he felt this 
 to his heart's core, but he dared not resoji^ if, hi.^ 
 only hope lay in once more seein"* T dy ^.(Oidon, 
 being able to appeal to her for i jud this man 
 
 could deny him the oi^portunity is usnal he iiad 
 recourse to subterfuge. 
 
THE GPAND GORDONS. 
 
 607 
 
 '• I wish to say something to Lady Gordon that 
 she will bitterly regret all her life long if she does 
 not hear ; once outside this house my lips are sealed 
 forever." 
 
 Peter Farquharson looked hard in the man's face ; 
 he saw there the most intense fear, fear that could 
 make him craw^l among the worms of the dust, but 
 he could read no other emotion ; he remembered 
 hearing of a third child of Margaret Gordon's, a baby 
 who was reported dead,'and a thought crossed his 
 mind that perhaps this child was alive, and in the 
 hut of some savage, as the mother had been ; it could 
 do no harm to mention his suspicions to her Lady- 
 ship, and he went into the inner drawing-room lor 
 that purpose. 
 
 Lady Gordon knew that this could not be the case ; 
 Miss St. Clare had repeated all she knew of the death 
 and solitary grave of the little child, the only solace 
 of her lonely mother's heart. 
 
 *' No, he can have nothing to tell me I do not already 
 know; yet let him come and say what he wishes 
 me to hear ; it will most likely be the last time wo 
 shall ever meet on this side of the grave." 
 
 It was so. 
 
 Admitted to Lady Gordon's presence, the poor 
 w^retch flung himself on his knees before her, praying 
 in the most abject manner for mercy, conjuring her 
 bv all things she held dear and sacred, to save him 
 I'lom the terrible fate which hung over him, promis- 
 ing to swear the most binding oath that he would 
 
 
608 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 M !: 
 
 : t 
 
 \'\ 
 
 ;i i 
 
 h 
 
 I 
 
 never again enter Scotland, nay he would go to 
 Australia, New Zealand, anywhere she chose to 
 name ; he was so poor he had not a shilling to buy 
 bread, but he would work his passage across the 
 ocean, change his name, work for his bread in a 
 foreign land, and bless her forever, while power oi 
 speech was left him. 
 
 Lady Grordon held counsel with her own heart ; 
 she put away all her child's wrong, would not allow 
 it obtrude on her thoughts for one moment; her 
 soul went up to the footstool of her risen Lord, seek- 
 ing grace to do His will, and the answer came, strong 
 and clear as the hand writing on the wall in Babylon, 
 ^' whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, 
 that do ye also unto them." 
 
 Bertram Percy left the old house with a hundred 
 pounds in his pocket, bound down by a solemn pro- 
 mise to leave Edinburgh by the train which went 
 South at five o'clock, to proceed to Australia, and 
 never again set foot on British ground. 
 
 We shall see how he fulfilled his oath ! 
 
 Margaret Gordon and her brothers were in Liver- 
 pool, and here the latter proposed that they should 
 stay for at least a day, that she might rest after the 
 fatigue of her long voyage. 
 
 Tiny would by no means consent to this ; she had 
 reminiscences of Liverpool which were all too ter- 
 rible to be renewed, even the kindness she had 
 received there was from one who she dared not trust 
 herself to think of ; ever putting from her the painful 
 
THE GRAND GOKDONS. 
 
 609 
 
 thought of what might have been, had Bertram Percy 
 never crossed her path, or she herself exercised her 
 unbiassed judgment, taking her standard by the law 
 of right and wrong which the Heavenly Father has 
 given to all. 
 
 She shuddered as she thought of the week of lone- 
 liness and misery she had spent in Liverpool, when 
 Bertram Percy left her the evening of their arrival, 
 as he said, " to take a walk before going to rest," and 
 instead of returning as was his wont between three 
 and five in the morning, the night and day passedi 
 and six nights and days, and he came not ; it is true 
 the landlord of the hotel informed her each day that 
 €aptain Percy, with one or two other gentlemen, 
 generally came there for dinner and supper, but her 
 apartments he never came near. 
 
 She remembered also buc too well that it was 
 Hugh Seaton who at last found out her recreant hus- 
 band, and brought him to his senses, that Major 
 Seaton, informed by a letter from one of his brother 
 ofl'cers of Captain Percy's conduct, and the life his 
 neglected wife was leading, came from Scotland on 
 purpose to ascertain for himself whether such a story 
 could possibly be true ; and having found it was 
 even but too true, departed not until he had obtained 
 a solemn promise from Captain Percy, on his word 
 of honor as a gentleman, that such a thing should 
 Jiever occur again. His word of honor ! the cur who 
 placed no more value on his word or oath, than he 
 <iid on a false coin. 
 
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 it ■ 
 
 Is ii 
 
 1 ilj : in 
 
610 
 
 THE GRAND GORDOXS. 
 
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 1-4 
 
 And her memory went back but too vividly to an after 
 time, and the words of bitter scorn, in which she M^as^ 
 tauntingly told of Hugh's interference in her behalf. 
 
 No, a day of rest in Liverpool would be no rest 
 for her, either for body or soul. 
 
 They were near their destination, in Scotland, close 
 to Edinburgh. 
 
 Tiny's brow, which had been so clear for weeks 
 back, ever since they left Montreal, was now clouded, 
 and her spirit, which on ship board seemed to be 
 regaining the elasticity of her girlhood, was now 
 lull of nervous unrest, and she asked herself over 
 and over again the sad question, *' how shall J. 
 ever enter the old house and walk in its grounds and 
 gardens, see all the inanimate things that cannot; 
 feel, still there, and she who would have welcomed 
 me with such intense delight, lying cold and stillv 
 never to look into my eyes or touch my hand again. '» 
 
 How often during that last day of their journey 
 did she draw her veil over her face, lest her tearful 
 eyes should betray the sorrow, which strive against 
 it as she would, still asserted its right to be uppermost 
 in her heart. 
 
 Her brothers noted the change, and knew the- 
 cause, but feared to tell her that her mother still 
 lived, would be there to welcome her home ; there 
 in the railway cars the excitement might be toa 
 much, and they asked each other, " Why did we not 
 tell her on shipboard ? how could we have been so 
 stupid ? now wc will be at home in half an hour» 
 we must leave it alone." 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 GU 
 
 And what of Captain Percy ? did he keep his 
 promise, his solemn oath ? that he would leave 
 Edinburgh within the hour, go to one of the Colonies, 
 and never return to Scotland, all his life long — did 
 he mean to keep that oath, oflered with such humilia- 
 tion — vowed so solemnly with hand clasped on the 
 Holy Evangel ? Perhaps he did, just at the moment 
 his lips were uttering the words which were to 
 make him a free man ; he had such a horror of those 
 closed walls, the terrible j^rison labor, that freedom 
 anywhere, on any terms, was full of blessing, light 
 and life. 
 
 lie thought of the life of excitement the Indians 
 lived, on their Pagan reserve ; he dared not go to 
 Canada ; the man known as George Smith would 
 certainly be recognized and seized there ; he had had 
 enough of prowling about in disguise and in the 
 dark, the last week he was in Montreal, every quick 
 footstep he heard behind him making his heart boat 
 with fear, lest a heavy hand should be laid on his 
 shoulder, and the words, " You are my prisoner," 
 meet his ear ; he would not risk this again ; but 
 there were Indians, and wild bush land, and buffalo^ 
 beyond the Rocky Mountains, and there he would go. 
 
 These thoughts passed through his mind while the 
 Holy book was in his hand, as he laid it on the 
 table, and recognized the hated volume in its loose 
 cover of black leather he used to read from with such 
 weariness, to please Lady Gordon, in the early days 
 of his courtship of her daughter. 
 
 I'll 
 
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 M 
 
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C12 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 il:^ 
 
 Had Lady Gordon consulted the two gentlemen 
 yvho were in the house, the one her relation, the 
 other her friend, her father's friend, she might have 
 been induced to let the law take its course, but she 
 acted on what she considered the law of her risen 
 ]^ord. 
 
 Captain Percy was sent to the Depot of the Kail- 
 way by Mr. Farquharson, James the old coachman 
 driving him in a light dog-cart. They were in time 
 for the train wdiich was just starting, and James, who 
 liad been instructed to see him ofl^, drew his attention 
 to the whistle which sounded just as the vehicle 
 arrived at the Station. Captain Percy raised his eye- 
 brows, gave the man an insolent stare, and said in a 
 haughty manner, as if a great liberty had been taken 
 "with him — 
 
 " Have you yet to learn to address your superiors 
 only when it is necessary for their service ?" 
 
 Every servant in Lady Gordon's house knew more 
 of Captain Percy's low ha])its than she herself or her 
 friends did. James also knew that were it not to get 
 her son-in-law out of the w^ay, he would not have 
 been sent to drive him to the railway, with instruc- 
 tions to see him off; he cared little for oflending him, 
 and re];)lied curtly. — 
 
 " I have yet to learn that you are my superior or the 
 superior of any decent man ; I was told to see you oft* 
 by the train which goes South in a few minutes, and 
 I shall do so if possible." 
 
t5 
 
 have 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 G13 
 
 " You were right to add " if possible," my man ; 
 it is not possible, as I am not sure by what train I 
 shall go South, but you may now go back and tell 
 Madam Gordon that it I leave Edinburgh to-night, I 
 will go when, and by the conveyance I please." 
 
 lid would have liked to tell the truth, perhaps for 
 the first time in his life, and say that he had deter- 
 mined not to go South, but to wait for the seven 
 o'clock train, by which, (he had gathered from the 
 telegram Lady Gordon had received in his presence,) 
 his wife was expected, and return that night to the 
 old house with her, but the warrant for his appre- 
 hension was written out, a few minutes would suffice 
 to place it in the hands of a detective ; he must be 
 careful for the next two hours ; after that he hoped 
 to have Tiny on his side, even as half an hour past he 
 had her mother. 
 
 lie jumped from the dog-cart, and in a few 
 minutes, taking the direction of the train, was lost in 
 the crowd ; a man with the same slouched alpine hat 
 as Captain Percy wore, jumped on the train just as 
 it started ; the coachman fancied he had seen his 
 mistress' unworthy son-in-law safe oil* by the five 
 o'clock train for the South. 
 
 Captahi Percy went to iin Hotel in the immediate 
 vicinity of the station, ordered dinner, bought a box 
 of cigars, and i^repared to enjoy himself until seven 
 o'clock. 
 
 Now that he had money, he would have preferred 
 having a few weeks to enjoy himself, before settling 
 
 a 
 
 'f! 
 
 •t''! 
 
 If 
 
i 
 
 ¥'H 
 
 if^ 
 
 Gt4 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 down to what he considered must be for some time 
 at least, (until he had acquired a proper ascendancy 
 over Tiny's mind) the humdrum of married Hie. 
 
 Having satisiied his appetite, and smoked hiscii^-aT, 
 he strelched himself at full len^-th on a sofa where 
 contemplating" the ceiling, he Ix'gan to hold com- 
 munion with himself on the stirring scene he had 
 gone through in the last few hours. 
 
 "So," he soliloquized, "Madam Gordon would 
 have packed me olf to the back of the world, while 
 she, the two young gentlemen and Miss Tiny, would 
 enjoy themselves to the full on the fortune of the 
 millionaire brother ; not if I know it Madam, it seems 
 you cheated the t^exton of his dues, but you wont 
 cheat Bertram Percy. I wonder how she managed 
 that? most likely some infamous trick to endeavor 
 to cut me out of my rights. I was nearly forgetting 
 my own little cubs, ungrateful man that I am, the 
 dear lambs, who at the present moment constitute the 
 best part of my stock in trade." 
 
 "Now I must go over my piogramme for seven 
 o'clock ; in the first place watch the arrival of the 
 
 train look carefully into each window of the first 
 
 class car ; having fount" the one which contains my 
 fate, I must be directed by circumstances as to my 
 conduct ; in all likelihood one fond brother will go to 
 Jind the carriage, which, of course, will be in waiting 
 to convey the happy family to their mother's arms. 
 Ha ! ha !" laughed he, with a sarcastic grin, " she 
 does not expect a fourth, and that fourth her dear 
 son-in-law, who she fancied two hours before, she 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 615 
 
 time 
 aiicy 
 
 iigaT, 
 
 com- 
 3 had 
 
 A'ould 
 
 while 
 
 would 
 
 3f the 
 
 soeins 
 
 . wont 
 
 iiiaged 
 
 ^eavor 
 etting 
 m, the 
 itc the 
 
 seven 
 
 of the 
 
 Bic lirst 
 
 US my 
 
 to my 
 
 ffO to 
 raiting 
 
 arms. 
 
 " she 
 dear 
 
 e, she 
 
 Tiad paid off for life with one hundred pounds, the 
 niggardly old wretch ; but I forget my programme, 
 — one brother gone to hail the carriage (doubtless a 
 new and handsome covered carriage, not the dog-cart 
 which was considered good enough for Bertram 
 Percy,) the other of course departs to see after the 
 luggage, for which the dog-cart is in waiting ; now 
 is my time !" 
 
 *' I seize the happy moment to enter the cars, 
 I throw myself at Miss Tiny's feet, beg for mercy, 
 assail her with my poverty and hunger as I did her 
 mother, assure her by all my hopes of Heaven, that 
 the story of Abby's marriage is a vile calumny, 
 concocted to separate us and bring me to ruin, 
 
 threaten to throw myself into the water of Leith 
 
 and come olf victorious. On the return of the brothers 
 they find the lovers reconciled ! end of part lirst. — " 
 
 *• The old Jezebel need not flatter herself that 
 Bertram Percy and lady will remain her visitors, not 
 at all. Darling Tiny will be taught to require a 
 house in London, for w^hich Jezebel will fork out, 
 with an occasional visit to Baden Baden and Ilomburg. 
 AVont I bleed her freely ? yes. Sir, and amid the 
 multiplicity of my own affairs, I must not forget 
 specious pleasant Miss Abby ; I must visit New- York, 
 to repay her in the first place for her trouble in 
 stealing my money, and secondly, for the kindness 
 she manifested in furnishing Jezebel with a hint of 
 where her marriage took place ; it could have come 
 
 through no other means ; wait for me. Miss Abby 
 
 you shall have your w^ages in full I'll " 
 
I 
 
 
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 li}: , m 
 
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 ii SI 
 
 p. .0] 
 
 616 
 
 THE GRAND GORDOxXS. 
 
 He started up — " Yes, that's the whistle — Now , 
 Bertram Percy, your very best — all pleading first — 
 only threats of carrying off the cubs, when nothing- 
 else will move." 
 
 The train had stopped — crowds came pouring out 
 from every car — Captain Percy walked leisurely 
 along the outside of the first class car — there wero 
 few passengers — he kept his hat slouched over his 
 eyes — "Ha! there they are," he mentally exclaims, 
 as he discovers Tiny's face at the window, trying to 
 look into the darkness. He retreated into the shadow 
 — he could see plainly into the compartment where 
 the sons and daughter of Lady Gordon sat. His 
 programme was begun — Sir Reginald rose and left 
 the car by the door nearest to the baggage car, Robert 
 went out among the carriages. The instant they 
 were gone. Captain Percy hurried to the side of the 
 train ; it was in motion — there was something wrong ; 
 the conductor saw a man making tov^ards the plat- 
 form, and called with a voice of thunder " Off!" The 
 man had surely lost his senses ; ho jumped for the 
 platform — a great cry among the people — " A man 
 unde L* the wheels !" " A man killed '" 
 
 Reiyiimld Gordon is there in a moment — he looka 
 on the crushed limbs — the heaving convulsive body — 
 the ghastly face writhing in death; he knows that 
 face — he is recognized — a momei.t more, Bertram 
 Percy is little else than a bleeding piece of clay ! 
 
 " Come, Tiny, the carriage is waiting ; old James, 
 driving as he did when we were all children." 
 
'i mm 
 
 M 
 
 THE GRAND CJOHDONS. 
 
 61T 
 
 pl:it- 
 
 Tiie 
 
 )r the 
 
 mail 
 
 looks. 
 
 Idy- 
 
 that 
 
 Itram 
 li 
 
 imesi 
 
 *' What accident was that, Keginald ?" 
 •• A man hurt ; he was trying to jump on the 
 platform of this carriag-e, while the cars were in 
 motion ; the conductor called to him, but he took no 
 notice ; people will be so reckless." 
 
 " Perhaps he was deaf, and could not hear." 
 " That is not likely ; such things occur every day 5 
 people will come on aiul leave the cars when they 
 are in motion, although they are constantly warned 
 of the danger." 
 
 " Is he dead ?" 
 
 " I believe so." 
 
 •' Poor man, to be hurried into Eternity without a 
 moment's warning, were any of his friends here ?" 
 
 " No ; he is a stranger, and I desired that his body 
 might be cared for and buried at my expense ; come 
 away, Tiny, get in." 
 
 They are bowling along so fast the horses seem 
 to lly. 
 
 " I was so occupied talking and thinking of that 
 poor mai>, that I did not speak to James ; he will 
 open the carriage when we gel out ; he will be the 
 first one I will speak to by way of making amends 
 for my neglect." 
 
 They are within the gate, going up the drive ; the 
 old house ablaze with light. 
 
 " I am sure he will not be the first you will speak 
 to," said her brother. " Look how the light streams 
 from the open door out on the portico ; look Tiny, 
 
 I 1 1 
 
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 IKiJilit 
 
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 618 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 Mamma and the two children you are always talking?' 
 of are on the lower step ; that must bo tSeaton of 
 Thurlow, and I do declare, Peter Farquharson, with 
 his head as grey as ever, I should have known him 
 among a thousand, and Miss 8t. Clare and some one 
 else — and of all others, AVillie Hamilton !" 
 
 Sir Keginald was talking on unheeded ; Tiny was 
 staring at her mother — in another moment she is in 
 Lady Gordon's arms ; she could scarce believe her 
 senses — Oh ! it was such dear happiness, the one she 
 thought it impossible she should ever, ever see again. 
 
 " You see I am the first to welcome you, after all I" 
 
 A great dinner at the old house to welcome home 
 two children, both of whom had been mourned as 
 4ead ; a feast of fat things, wine on the lees. 
 
 " AVho do you like best, Charlie ?" Tiny had been 
 loading him with sweetmeats and toys brought from 
 I^ew-York on purpose. 
 
 " Not you." 
 
 " Oh ! Charlie !" . - 
 
 " No, I dont. I like grandmamma, and Leo, and 
 my pretty Mamma up there," and he pointed to the 
 cabinet picture in the blue dress. 
 
 •' But this is your pretty Mamma, Charlie," said 
 Lady Gordon, putting her hand on Tiny's shoulder. 
 
 " That my pretty Mamma I" said the child in a 
 contemptous tone, looking at Tiny's pale face with 
 xmy thing but admiration in his eyes " is'nt she in a 
 
ill 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 619 
 
 Wack frock and a ^vhito face ? and my mamma has a 
 bcautii'ul blue i'rock and red cheeks." 
 
 The child's words were remembered long after he 
 had learned to call her mamma, and to love her 
 dearly, and they taught her that she must put away 
 the old life, with all its sad memories, if she would 
 gain the love of those children, whose present was 
 all sunshine. 
 
 Bertram Percy was carried to an hospital ; life was 
 not totally extinct. He lived to see the early dawn 
 of another day, lived until the tide went back, went 
 out to sea — and then his poor unclothed soul went out 
 on a wider sea, even the sea of Eternity that hath no 
 bounds. 
 
 During the few hours he lived he was well 
 cared for by Miss St. Clare and Marion, who were 
 with him in the hospital until ho died. It was then 
 he made the confession which forms part of the 
 narrative portion of this book. In his purse were 
 found ninety-nine pounds in bills and some silver ; 
 in his coat pocket two crushed letters both addressed 
 to Miss St. Clare, the one signed Eobert Morton, the 
 other Marion Mitchell ! 
 
 The money by Sir Reginald's orders was given to 
 the hospital where he died ; the letters restored to 
 their owner. 
 
 Letters were written to his friends in Westmore- 
 land, informing them of the accident, and his body 
 sent to them. His uncle, an upright honest man, 
 one who had led a busy life himself, and therefore 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 I t 
 
C20 
 
 THE OUAND (U)llDONS. 
 
 \i\> 
 
 I ^1 
 
 hiitod nil idlors, " iiioiinihrniicos of tho onrth," ns ho 
 calkHl thtMii, luldod thw lctt(M* which ijifonncd him of 
 his iiophcw's (loath, layiiijL*' it on th« tahlo, uiid 
 j)laoini^his spoctaclos'ahovo it in his mothoflical way, 
 8ai(l, ppoakini^ his thoui»-hts aloud, ns was iV('([iu'nlly 
 his habit. " {So there is tho ond of a follow w lio 
 iiovor in all his lifo won a i)onny, and had ho livod 
 to tho i\<xe of Mothusolah, no vor would." And i>uttinij^ 
 on his hat, ho hurriod out to give ordovs lor tho i)ro- 
 pi'V rocoption of tho body, tho intermont of which 
 ho dosirod niii>ht tako place as soon after its arrival 
 as decency would permit. 
 
 His sisters mourned over Bertram Percy, as sisters 
 will do, let tho object bo ever so unworthy. His 
 intense sellishness, which for years back, never ceased 
 crying* " give, give," his insatiable love of gambling* 
 and low company, of which they were well aware ; 
 his reckless extravagance, which made their pocket 
 money as long as he could obtain it, melt like snow 
 in tho sunshine ; his innate meanness, which during 
 the short time tho inheritance left him by his father 
 histed, would not permit him to present them with 
 the smallest trinket, the cheapest bauble, but con- 
 iined his presents to a camelia from his uncle's green- 
 
 liouse, a bunch of grapes from the vinery were 
 
 all forgotten, buried in the dust ; tho few good 
 qualities ho possessed, the trifling kindnesses he had 
 shown them, were remembered, talked of, and mag- 
 nilied. 
 
 One tender dark-eyed girl, who within the few 
 
TIIH (UJANI) OOUDONS. 
 
 021 
 
 l)ust weeks, in order to send liim the money 80 
 jidroilly iipproprijited l)y Al)l)y, had jn'iveii up a 
 winler's re.sidt'uco \villi dear friends in Dresden, 
 whieli slie liad loni^ looked forward to as proniisin;^ 
 lier a time ol'somneli liappini'ss, liun^ over liis Ixxly, 
 "Nvild with grief, kissing' liis pal(» lips, and wetting" his 
 cold face with the great tears which fell down like rain. 
 
 " liortram, dear, dear l»ertram, my brother, mine 
 own, would to (Jod I had died foi* thee!" 
 
 AVltnessing a scem^ like this, wo shrink within 
 
 ours(dves in silent fear, as we ask the startlini^ 
 question, *• \N Iumo is lie i "Where has the poor 
 unclothed soul ijono ? lie who went down to death 
 in the midst ot his sins, without as far as earth knows, 
 one thought of repentance, one cry for mercy." 
 
 One thing we do know, God is more merciful 
 than man ; the dear ]jord Christ came to die for 
 sinners and the ungodly ; the great All Father, who 
 crcat(>d us, and has borne with the sins and way- 
 ■svardness of poor human nature for six thousand 
 years, loves with a stronger, because purer love, than 
 sister's or mother's or wife's ; He can send down Ilis 
 Holy Spirit now as on the day of l*entecost, in om? 
 moment, in the twinkling of an eye, and to this High 
 and Mighty Lord, this great ]iedeemer, we are 
 willing to leave all in humble trust, until faith shall 
 be lost in sight. 
 
 Mrs. Percy was made aw^are of her husband's death 
 by a railway accident, shortly after it occured, but 
 she never knew that the man who was killed the 
 day of her arrival in Edinburgh, was Bertram Percy 
 
 (■! 
 
1: 1 
 
 "i 'i: 
 
 l'j 
 
 'i<: 
 
 ifF^5^> 
 
 
 •^; 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 (^^^ Mrs. Percy's arrival at Leith, I wished at 
 ^Jl*JK once to return home, but both she and Lady 
 ^^•^ Gordon were so anxious I should remain with 
 them, that my departure, at their united and earnest 
 entreaty, was delayed from day to day, until at last 
 the calender warned me that if I wished to spend 
 Christmas with " my own peojile," I must be gone. 
 Dearly as I loved Lady Gordon and Mrs. Percy 
 both, the formev the tried friend of years, one whose 
 generosity had made mo rich beyond my most 
 sanguine expectations, ihe latter endearing herself 
 more and more to me every day with her quiet loving 
 ways, the consideration for others, the absence of 
 Belf which marked all her actions, I longed to leave 
 the old house at Leith, where I had spent so many 
 quiet days. 
 
 All the time I was there, particularly after Mrs. 
 Percy's arrival, I had such a terrible consciousness 
 of the shadow which lay upon my namp. ; I had 
 expected to hear the history of my prison liie and 
 its cause talked of, discussed and explained. This to 
 a certain extent was done, but all memory of Captain 
 Percy's connection with it, seemed to have been 
 
•mi tf\ 
 
 I I 
 
 'fii! 
 
 D 
 
 bed at 
 L Lady 
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 iarnest 
 at last 
 speiul 
 3 gone. 
 
 Percy 
 
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 most 
 
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 iloviiig 
 
 lice of 
 
 leave 
 
 many 
 
 Mrs. 
 
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 had 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 G2a 
 
 buried in oblivion, the waters of Lethe to have 
 passed over the whole story, as lar as he was con- 
 cerned ! 
 
 It is true that after my arrival I was asked by 
 Lady Gordon to repeat minutely everything which 
 bore on that terrible episode of my life, and we talked 
 it over and over again, })ut although I was presented 
 to all her Ladyship 's friends as " her dear friend who 
 had found Tiny with so much toil and trouble," yet 
 the story of George Smiths theft was never even 
 alluded to ; It was wisest and best that it should bo 
 so, and I have come to look upon it with diflferent 
 eyes now, but then it filled every day, every hour 
 with trouble ; I desired earnc^stly and expected to 
 hear the story of my incarceration talked of and 
 explained, George Smith identified with Captain 
 Percy, ray innocence made clear as the noon day, 
 i^'^itead of which I found the subject wholly ignored. 
 
 I entirely overlooked the fact that Canada papers 
 never came to Scotland, that if an account of my 
 conviction, condemnation and subsequent acquittal 
 had been read, no one would have ever dreamed that 
 I was the Ruth St. Clare, whose name flourished 
 there as being the victim of George Smith, and that 
 telling my story to her guests, Lady Gordon would 
 simply be disclosing the fact that the father of her 
 grand-children was a thief. I understood the motive 
 which kept her silent, and in after years I approved 
 of it, but then with my heart pain all awake, the 
 strong desire I had for the truth being held up 
 
 I 'i : 
 
(■ ^1 
 
 I, t 
 
 : I 
 
 I 1 
 
 1)24 
 
 THE ORA.ND GORDONS. 
 
 ])oiore the eyes of the world, it made me feel day 
 and night as if I was half a culprit. 
 
 I went to bid good-bye to old Saunders Mitchell 
 and his wife, no words were needed to tell the poaca 
 and happiness which Tandy's altered habits had 
 brought to their humble lire-side. Sandy was now 
 Mrs. rercy\ coachman ; his duties gave him almost 
 constant employment ni driving herself and her 
 children about ; he had thus no opportunity of 
 renewing his acquaintance with the old companions 
 who were his bane ; ho had no hereditary desire for 
 strong drink, the habit was broken, he was a free man. 
 
 It was not until after my return from Canada I 
 found out, that " poor lost Sandy," as she used to call 
 him, was Mario!\'s darling ; she was the eldest of the 
 family, Sandy the youngest, and she looked upon 
 him as her own ; her face which used to be so sad 
 that I often feared its inlluence on the children, was 
 a smiling one now. 
 
 I bade goodbye to Lady Gordon and her household, 
 with feelings anything but what they ought to have 
 been ; I fancied my good name tarnished, my life (in 
 all that makes life lovely) blighted, and that, by a 
 diflerent line of conduct on Lady Gordon's part, this 
 might have all been washed away ; my nervous 
 system had been terribly shattered, subsequently my 
 mind had been left to dwell on its own thoughts, 
 ever going round and round in the same circle, 
 which, had a change not come, would have produced 
 mental disease. - 
 
"W 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 625 
 
 I began to feel as if I was to have the shadow 
 taken from my life, the shir from my name, almost 
 us soon as the hills of Edinburgh faded from my 
 «ight. And long ere the spire of Petorston church 
 greeted my eyes, J. was forming plans for surprising 
 and dolighting " the loving ones I loved the best," 
 by walking in upon them in some old familiar way, 
 knowing as I did that I was wholly unexpected. 
 
 The dear old town clock struck five as the cars 
 arrived at the depot. The railway was an improve- 
 ment since I had left Peterstoh, and I found it had 
 brought several others in its train, — new houses, a 
 thing almost unheard of in my time, more than one 
 or two a year, a handsome new schoolhouse, a new 
 bank. I saw and noted all in the dimly lighted 
 streets, as I took my way to Sandy Hill Brae in the 
 sharp air of the December night. How dear and 
 familiar each small shop and humble dwelling looked, 
 as I passed cloye by and tried to look through the 
 curtainless windows, where the shutters had not 
 yet been closed ; on the mother and her children, 
 each one of whom I could name ; on the old woman 
 who sold bread, and penny beer, and apples, and 
 who now lived so lonely, since her only child, a son, 
 married an Irish girl, and went away to live in his 
 wife's land. There she was, the dear old body, her 
 cap as white and neat as ever, sitting on a low stool 
 beside the fire, her spectacles on, reading by the 
 fire-light, the book I knew so well, and had seen 
 her read from so often. I stood for a moment 
 
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 THE GRAND GORDONS 
 
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 irresolute, tempted to enter and slip the present I 
 had long a<:^o resolved should be her's into Granny 
 Tajiton's hand, but a single thought of the indignation 
 which would fill Janet's mind, to the exclusion, for 
 the time, of any other feeling, when she came to lind 
 out that Miss St. Clare had gone into the " beer 
 wilie's house before she cam hame to her ain folk," 
 deterred me. 
 
 Up the brae, over the crisp frosty ground past 
 
 the pump I went In Mr. Johnston's house I can 
 
 see them stirring about, preparing tea in the lighted 
 kitchen; a little further on, Miss Robertson had a 
 friend with her, tea was on the table, and the best 
 china cups, I knew them well; her maid (Janet's 
 gossip) came to shut the shutters; I was evidently 
 recognized ; as I paused looking at the group inside, 
 she turned round, and spoke to her mistress with a 
 smile on her face, leaving the shutters half shut ; 1 
 saw the mistress and visitor come to the window as 
 I retreated. 
 
 Now I am close to our own kitchen window, stoop- 
 ing down, looking in, everything clean and shiny as 
 usual, the black tea kettle on the bright fire, the 
 steam rushing from the spout, I could almost hear it 
 singing its song of home and welcome, the bright tea 
 pot on one hob, the brass tea kettle on the other, 
 Janet seated in front, toasting bread for lea. 
 
 I felt my heart beat almost audibly, as I looked at 
 the old home picture I had known since my early 
 girlhood. 
 
"Trr 
 
 THE GllAND (iORDONS. 
 
 97 
 
 027 
 
 I tapped jL^ently on the window ; this was the way 
 Janet's visitors were wont to announce themselves ; 
 she adjusted the slice of toast adroitly in front of the 
 iire, and then came to the window, opening it just 
 enough to discover who was there, and what was 
 wanted. I held up my finger to warn her, I wished 
 that Grand-papa and Ella should not be made aware 
 of my arrival ; she understood at once, and with a 
 smiling pleased face, signed to me to go to the door, — 
 she herself, with her careful habit, removing the 
 slice of toast from the iire before ascending the 
 kitchen staircase. 
 
 As she opened the door, she said, speaking to her- 
 self as if to account to some one inside for doing so, — 
 " 1 wonder what kind o' a night it is ?" 
 
 •' Ye're welcome hame. Miss liuth," in a quiet 
 under-tone. 
 
 •' Thank you, Janet," replied I, in the same low 
 accents, " where are Grandpapa and Ella ?" 
 
 Janet seized one hand of mine in both her own, 
 and pulling me gently forward, said — 
 
 " The Major is in the i)arlor, sittin' sleepin in his 
 chair, and Miss Ella is up the stair doin' her hair. 
 An how are ye, yoursel ?" she continued, almost in 
 the same breath, "y« look gay bleached like, but 
 maybe it's in the grey light." 
 
 Grey light indeed ! the little hall lamp was lit, but 
 true to her principle of saving, the light was so low 
 as to deserve the name of grey. 
 
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628 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 " I wish to surprise ihem, Janet," said I, speakiiij^ 
 soltly as 1 had l)ei'oro done. " So if you'll take my 
 cloak and hat, I'll sit at the ta])le in my old plaee, 
 until you bring- up the tea; you can awake jrranclpnpa, 
 and call Ella down, bei'ore you l)ring- in the candles." 
 
 *' I'll jist do that," replied she, as she relieved me 
 of my wraps, and opening* the parlor door, softly 
 signed for me to enter. 
 
 The room at first, cA'en after the grey light of the 
 hall, seemed darkness visil)le. Janet had what she 
 called the after-dinner lire in the g-rate, which meant 
 coals put on the top, which were not to be stirred, 
 and thus would not burn, until the tea was on the 
 table, so that it was rather dillicult to distinguish 
 o])Jects at once. 
 
 liy and bye, I began to see grandpapa asleep in his 
 great leather chair, the side ta]>le, which, with the 
 aid of old fashioned knife and spoon ])oxes, did duty 
 as a side board, the old piano with its thin spinnit- 
 like legs, the old fashioned mantel mirror, the gilded 
 raven on the top, from whose bill hung a chain and 
 ball, looking so poor and mean now, to what it used 
 to do, when taught by Janet, I considered it one of those 
 things, which like the thin-legged piano belonged of 
 right to " the gentles," of which class of the aristo- 
 cracy we of course formed a part, and that such an 
 elegant piece of furniture was altogether unpro- 
 curable by common people. 
 
 Ijy degrees I came to distinguish the family picture 
 hanging above and extending the whole length of the 
 
 'I: 
 
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 THE aUAND GOKDONS. 
 
 629 
 
 II 
 
 side ttible, reprosonting my grandfather on one side, 
 instructinq' three boy.s, my nnch^s (who all seemed 
 about the same height with their father) in the use 
 of the terrestrial globe, while on the other my grand- 
 mother appeared to be listening with delight to the 
 performance of my mother on the thin legged piano, 
 and my aunt Mabel, who accompanied her sister on 
 a guitar, strung round her neck by a very loose bro^d 
 blue ribbon, witli a large conspicuous looking bow — 
 a line stau* hound in the fore ground completed the 
 picture, which until my residence in Edinburgh, I 
 always considered a chij-d\tiivre ; each familiar thing 
 was slowly unfolding itself, the geraniums and rose 
 trees in the window, the old crimson merino curtains 
 all coming into sight one by one, when suddenly my 
 grandfather stretched out his arms, uttered a " heigh, 
 ho !" and rang the bell, the usual summons lor tea. 
 
 Janet appeared, armed with tea-pot and steaming 
 brass kettle, which she proceeded to put on the table. 
 
 " What has become of the candles, Janet ? Have I 
 slept long, VAX'A V addressing me, as I sat opposite to 
 him, but back from the lire place in the shadow. 
 
 "That's no Miss Ella, Major ; I'll call Miss Ella 
 down and bring the candles in a minute." 
 
 " How do you do. Miss Galbraith ?" said my 
 grandfather, half rising and bowing as he spoke. " I 
 did not recouiii/e you, sitting as you are in the 
 shadow, and indeed the whole room is dark ; we 
 shall see," continued he, rising and taking the poker 
 to stir the lire, "if we cannot throw a little light on 
 
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 630 
 
 THE GRAND OORDONfl. 
 
 the subject, without waitini^ for Janet and tho 
 candles." 
 
 A hearty stir to the fire, hreakin*^ the coals, sent a 
 flood of lin-ht into the room, Avhile at the same 
 moment Ella entered, followed by Janet, armed with 
 a lighted candle in each hand, placed in the old 
 fashioned plated candle sticks, Avhich formed part of 
 our claim to be " gentles," and highly valued by 
 Janet, as comprising a portion of the " family plate,'* 
 the principal articles of which were of exactly tho 
 same intrinsic value as the old candlesticks. 
 
 "liuthie!" from Ella, as she made two or three 
 skips across the little parlor to where I sat. 
 
 "Ituth !" from Grandpapa, as he stood up, looking 
 at me, unable to move Irom sheer amazement. 
 
 Ella kissed me, laughed, kissed me again, patting 
 my cheek as if I wa^i a baby, and turning round to 
 look at the tea table, said — 
 
 " "What a shame you did not write to tell us you 
 
 were coming ; 
 
 we would have had something nice 
 
 for tea." 
 
 " I like better to see you and Grandpapa, and be 
 at home once more in this dear little parlor, than to 
 have all the nice things in the world to eat ; I am 
 sick of nice things ; I have not seen toast that looks 
 so inviting as that since I left home." 
 
 Janet's good-hum'ored face smiled all over as she 
 heard me praise her toast, one of the things she 
 prided herself ujion, and would neve • allow another 
 
 ii i' 
 
THE ailAND GORDONS. 
 
 031 
 
 make, because, as she always said, "A' body else 
 burns't or drys't up like a stick, nae])ody kens how 
 to mak it but mysel ; au' the Major winna look at it 
 gin it's nae right made ; a' the warld kens' at the men 
 folk, gentle and simple, need to be attended vvi' their 
 meat, an officer aboon a' wonna thole bad cookin." 
 
 It was now that my prison life was discussed, 
 talked over and over until I was wearied of it ; I 
 had sent newspapers from Montreal as soon as I was 
 able to think of anything, containing an account of 
 the trial, and these, owing to the time which had 
 elapsed, were obtained with a little difficulty ; I sent 
 them all to my Orandfather's care, requesting him 
 to distribute them freely among our friends ; I was 
 feverishly anxious that all publicity should be given 
 to it. 
 
 I had not read an account of the trial myself; when 
 I looked at it, it seemed to rack my brain, and now 
 when Ella showed me the paper they had kept for 
 themselves, I found, to my surprise, what I might 
 have guessed at, that Captain Percy's name was not 
 there, nor the least allusion to him, the, motive assigned 
 for George Smith (who was described as a dissipated 
 Englishman, supporting himself and wife by low 
 •gambling and shop theft) trying to fasten his crime 
 upon me being merely his anxiety for his own safety, 
 which his large robberies from the dry goods stores 
 rendered necessary, and his singling me out because 
 seeing I was a stranger, I would most likely haA'^e no 
 ■one interested in me, and as an occupant of a board- 
 
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 ing house not far from his own, he would have more 
 facilities in fixing the crime upon me. 
 
 I at once saw why Lady Gordon carefully avoided, 
 when speaking to strangers of my terrible trial, any 
 mention of her son-in-law's participation in it ; it 
 would have been simply associating his and of course 
 his children's name with crime which he was not 
 known to have had any hand in. 
 
 After my return to Edinburgh, and the ten thous- 
 and pounds given me by Lady G-ordon, had been 
 remitted to the Bank of Scotland in Peterston, in my 
 name, I saw an announcement of the sale of Rossville 
 Cottage, a j^retty place in the suburb of the town, 
 opposite to where we lived, which, from its elevated 
 situation above the sea braes, commanded a view of 
 the harbor and town, also all the ships that came in 
 or went out to sea ; the cottage itself a comfortable 
 residence, surrounded by a small shrubbery, with a 
 garden and orchard. 
 
 I had written to my grandfather to purchase it 
 for me, which had been done at the low price of 
 fifteen hundred pounds, I of course intending it as a 
 home for us all. 
 
 However, on the first mention I made of my wish 
 that we should remove to the cottage, I saw it would 
 not do ; grandpapa was wedded to the old place, to 
 which he had brought his wife as a bride, and from 
 which he had carried her out to lay her in the green 
 churchyard, and where, as he said, his boys went out 
 from, when they w^andered away, each to seek his 
 
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 ■:t 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 635 
 
 fortune in a distant land. " And when they come 
 back," said the old man, " it' I am alive they will 
 find me here, and in dreams when the dead come to 
 see the quick Isabel Leslie will always come to the 
 cottage on the Sandy Hill brae ; she would never go 
 to Kossville." 
 
 Ella, too, clung to the little place where she was 
 born, with its few yards of garden ground, where 
 she played away her merry childhood. 
 
 Even Janet put her veto against what she called, 
 " such an unco like thing as a family who had lived 
 a' their lives lang in respectability and gentility and 
 comfort, wi' everything they could wish or want," 
 (save the mark) " to gang afF to anither end o' the 
 toun whar they didna ken ony o' the neighbors; deed, 
 for that matter," she continued, " I dinna ken gin 
 there be ony neighbors ; its saxteen years sin' I was 
 that gate wi' Miss Ella in my arms ; ae day' at I gaed 
 cot to gi' her an airin', an than, the nearest neighbor 
 was the folk at Painted Eft'ey, an' officers an their 
 leddys dinna mak neighbors o' folk' at taks in washin." 
 
 It was a disappointment to me, I expected to have 
 made such a pretty and happy home for us all. To me 
 my grandfather's cottage which before I went to Lady 
 Gordon's large house, seemed all that was necessary 
 now appeared of the smallest dimensions, but there was 
 no help for it, so I had to give in with a good grace, 
 and by degrees I coaxed Janet to allow me go to the 
 extravagance of new carpets, and Lave the chairs 
 and sofas re-covered, and one morning Ella almost 
 
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634 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 
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 wept for joy at finding herself the possessor of a new 
 Broadwood, with as she expressed it, " such beautiful 
 tones that it might almost be made to play alone." 
 
 I found that my ten thousand pounds had suddenly 
 •endowed me with qualities that entitled me to be 
 visited by those who formerly considered themselves 
 gracious if they only bowed when we met ; I had 
 so many invitations during the winter, that if I had 
 only accepted the one half I must have spent my 
 time doing little else. 
 
 The fear I had of being avoided as one under the 
 ban of society, only to be tolerated, was all gone ; 
 people talked with me, asking questions regarding 
 my prison life, indignantly commenting on a law 
 that could by any possibility make the innocent 
 suffer for the guilty, in a way that convinced me 
 more than anything else could have done, that not a 
 breath of suspicion attached to myself. 
 
 My prison life had done no more ill to my outward 
 life than in making the half of my brown hair grey, 
 and for the brown hair, it o-ave me a heart full of 
 untold sympathy with those who are sick and in 
 prison, an earnest desire to help them, an inclination 
 to believe the account they themselves gave of their 
 sins and sorrows. 
 
 To my inward life, that which we all live apart, 
 that which our very nearest cannot share, any more 
 than they can go with us on our journey through the 
 valley of the shadow, it had given dreams full of a 
 wild fear, when I would wake up to thank God I 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 63 
 
 O 
 
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 was in my little bed in my Scottish home ; days 
 when in the midst of joy and laughter, serious con- 
 versation or lonely meditation, a handsome dark face 
 would come up from the store house of my memory, 
 and for one instant look into my eyes, telling all too 
 plainly of the life of protection, trust, and love I had 
 lost, and pointing down the long road I had to travel 
 alone ! 
 
 My dear old grandfather, in a few years, all too 
 soon for me, would rise from his feeble body, and with 
 quick and joyful steps go to meet his loved ones, who 
 had gone so long before to the spirit home. Ella was 
 too sweet, too loA^ing to remain with me always ; I 
 would not have it so if I could ; I hoped to see the 
 time when some good man's earnest eyes would, look 
 upon her face with love and praise too deep for 
 words ; w^hen children would rise up and call her 
 blessed, and then for me the long way down the road 
 would be so lonely, I could see myself walking there 
 with clasp >d hands and bowed down head. 
 
 There w^ere no stones ,or thorns there to hurt my 
 feet or make my temples bleed, no hand to smite, no 
 sharp voice to reprove, but the road was long and 
 so lonely, and my heart was yearning for the glance 
 of an eye I knew, the touch of a hand that was far 
 away. 
 
 
 *' 
 
 I 
 
 I had been a year and half at home. It was April, 
 with its sudden gleams of sunshine coxning amid 
 soft showers, making the forest trees spread out their 
 
636 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
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 fresh young green leaves, and the voyager birds had 
 all come home from the South, and glad to be back 
 again to the old nest and shady nooks they had left, 
 were singing their sweet spring songs. 
 
 The tenth was Ella s marriage-day ; she was to 
 marry a young lawyer we all liked, John Galbraith, 
 brother of the Miss Gralbraith grandpapa mistook me 
 for the night I came home. 
 
 I gave Ella Rossville cottage and two thousand 
 pounds as her portion ; she would iii the end have 
 all I had, but I did not think it best that her young' 
 husband should know this, and so have one motive 
 less to exert himseli'; he was young and talented, I 
 hoped to see him yet at the head of his profession, 
 indifferent to the money of others which he could so 
 easily win himself. 
 
 In the end of March our clergyman was struck by 
 paralysis ; his pulpit had for the two Sundays preced- 
 ing the day set for Ella s marriage, been supplied by 
 probationers, young men who could not perform the 
 marriage ceremony, and w|io neither grandpapa nor 
 I would have chosen for such a imrpose, if they couki 
 
 Grandpapa had written to a friend of his, the 
 clergyman of a neighboring parish, to come to us in 
 this emergenc}'' ; it was now the ninth, and his letter 
 was still unanswered. 
 
 I was beginning to be very uneasy on the subject, 
 and to fear that the marriage must be postponed ; 
 not one of us would have liked this ; Janet declaring 
 that it was such ill luck to put off a marriage after 
 
THE GKAND GORDONS. 
 
 637 
 
 the day had been so long fixed, and was so near at 
 hand, that it would be better to put it off altoi'-ether ; 
 when the marriage was put oif on account of tlie 
 minister, one of the newly married pair -would be 
 sure to die ere the year was out. 
 
 Fate willed it otherwise. On the afternoon of the 
 ninth, grandpapa came home, saying Mr. Mill, our 
 own minister, had found a substitute for himself, in 
 the person of a clergyman who had arrived at the 
 hotel in the morning ; He came just to see the place, 
 and had been to visit him as the clergyman of the 
 town ; Mr. Mill asked him to perform the ceremony 
 to which he willingly agreed. 
 
 Grandpapa called to see Mr. Mill while the clergy- 
 man w^as there, was introduced to the stranger, and 
 his mind set at ease on the subject of his grand- 
 child's marriage. 
 
 A beautiful bride Ella looked in her simple soft 
 dress of white silk ; she w^as to be married on her 
 nineteenth birthday, too young for a wife ; I would 
 fain have kept her some years yet to myself, but I 
 was overruled, the more easily as I felt my objection 
 Avas partly at least a selfish one. 
 
 I dressed her myself, put on her bridal wn-eath and 
 veil, then gave her to granapapa, who took her away 
 to give her to another ! 
 
 I had watched over her all those nineteen years ; 
 it w^as for her I had left my home, and all the long 
 four years we were parted, I prayed for her night 
 and morn, and solaced myself that when the time 
 
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638 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 ri 
 
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 was over we would live many years together, and 
 now she was gone ! 
 
 I watched her with beatini? heart and eyes full of 
 unbidden tears which would not be repressed ; as 
 she walked on, her M^hite glo»^ed hand leaning on 
 Grrandpapa's arm, her veil like a cloud falling over 
 the soft folds of her dress, along the little hall, down 
 the staircase, I looked until I saw^ her enter the draw- 
 ing room, where the bridal guests and the bridegroom 
 waited the coming of the bride. 
 
 I felt as if my heart was breaking ; I had taken my 
 first steps down the long lonely road ! 
 
 There was no time for dreaming ; I dried my eyes 
 as hastily as I could, and followed her down stairs^ 
 into the drawing room. 
 
 Miss Robertson and Mrs. Massie, a distant relative 
 of our own, had installed themselves mistresses of 
 ceremony. 
 
 Mr. Gralbraith's two sisters were to be bridesmaids^ 
 and had waited for Ella in a little room opposite the 
 drawing room door, and entering a second or two 
 after the others, I slipped unnoticed to the other end 
 of the room, and seated myself behind the guests, 
 who w^ere now all standing round Ella. 
 
 I knew the clergyman was in the group ; Janet 
 came upstairs to announce his arrival before I had 
 finished dressing Ella, sore and pre-occupied as 
 my heart was, I looked up that I might see what 
 like he was, as if that would have any effect on the 
 
 Ui 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 639 
 
 destiny of her who was about to lay aside, perhaps 
 foreArer, " her maiden ghidness for a name and a ring '* 
 
 I succeeded so far. I saw a head above the others, 
 with dark brown hair, but the face was turned the 
 other way. 
 
 " Let us pray !" The voice which uttered these 
 words and then waited for a second or two, that 
 those around might compose both mind and body 
 for the solemn act, thrilled through my every nerve ; 
 it was so like one I knew, one that spoke thus to 
 people three thousand miles away, one I was so 
 sure 1 would never hear again, it made me feel as if 
 I had fallen into a cold icy sea. 
 
 The clergyman spoke again, in earnest words of 
 supplication. I could not distinguish one word,, 
 knew not their import, but the tone and cadence, 
 the habit of stopping at the end of each supplication 
 for a second, were the same as I knew and had 
 listened to so far away. 
 
 " They whom God hath joined, let no man put 
 asunder !" 
 
 The solemn words fell like ice upon my heart; 
 there was no Ella St. Clare now ; she had passed 
 from among us, she had for life and death another 
 home, and bore another name. 
 
 My heart was exceeding sorrowful ; I put both 
 my hands on my face, and bowed down my head» 
 and wept selfish tears ; I was walking down the 
 dark lonelv road. 
 
 I 
 
<340 
 
 THE GllAND GURDOXS. 
 
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 A hand touched my own, drew it away from my 
 face ; some one was bending over me — 
 
 "Ruth!" 
 
 I opened my eyes to see the dark handsome face 
 of John Denham leunini>' over mine ! 
 
 A moment more I was chisped in Elhi's arms, her 
 face on my cheek. 
 
 What made me feel so happy as I bade ]']lla good- 
 bye, kissing her after she had entered the carriage 
 which was to bring her part of the way to Edinburgh 
 on her marriage jaunt V was it because her sweet 
 young face was radiant with joy ? 
 
 Yes, that was certainly one reason. 
 
 Ere many weeks were over, old Mr. Mill was 
 dead, and Mr. Denham had accepted a call to the 
 charge thus vacant, and when May came round 
 again, John Denham went to attend the general 
 assembly in Edinburgh, and I, (I had not walked 
 far down that road I feared so much) I went to 
 Edinburgh with Mr. Denham as his bride ! 
 
 Lady Gordon would insist upon our living with 
 her during the time we had to spend on our visit, 
 and I for my part was very pleased to do so ; it was 
 like home to me living in the old house, and my own 
 heart full of rest and happiness, so fond and proud oi 
 my handsome talented husband, whose praise was 
 in all the churches, made it a very different home to 
 what it had been during the few last weeks I lived 
 there. 
 
 How our own feelings and frames change the 
 
THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 641 
 
 with 
 
 visit, 
 
 It was 
 
 own 
 
 )ud oi 
 was 
 le to 
 
 llived 
 
 the 
 
 aspoct of all nature; our hoarls are oppressed \vith 
 anxiety and care ; the house is cold and cheerless ; 
 the trees sigh with amourni'ul cadence; the sonc? ot* 
 the birds overhead is monotony and weariness. 
 
 A friend or a letter brini»s us good news; the evil 
 we feared has passed away ; good fortune comes in 
 its stead ; the house is full of sunshine ; the shadow 
 is gone ; the wind stirs the green bonghs and soft 
 leaves with a pleased twitter ; the birds sing with 
 such sweet melody ; we listen entranced ! 
 
 I went to the sitting of the assembly several times, 
 and heard my husband speak with eloquence and 
 power. I saw that he was listened to as few men of 
 his age are, that old men grasped his hand as they do 
 to their equals in knowledge. I heard his counsel 
 listened to with respect, his suggestions deliberated 
 on, his resolutions adopted! My heart was quiet 
 and hushed with happiness. Who was I, that this 
 great good should happen unto me ? I the homely 
 girl, no longer young, who at twelve years old, those 
 who loved her best called " the old maid," what 
 attraction could I have had for this handsome man, 
 who in all things stood as a king among his peers ? 
 
 There was but one solution to the mystery, and 
 doubling my veil over my face, lest others should 
 see the big tears of gratitude which rose from my 
 heart and would have way, I said, in my soul, " God 
 has been very good to me." 
 
 Mrs. Percy was at Rockgirtisle Castle ; there was to 
 be a great family gathering to celebrate Sir Reirinald's 
 
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 642 
 
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 birthday ; Mr. Denham and I were asked to accom- 
 pany Lady Gordon thither; the sittings ot the assembly 
 were over ; my husband's business in Edinburgh 
 done, and he at once consented that we should go. 
 
 Mrs. Percy had put oft" her mourning, and looked 
 like a vision of beauty in her white muslin dress, 
 yet there was an unrest in her eye which I did not 
 like, and which told me there was something wanting 
 to her happiness. 
 
 One afternoon the gentlemen had gone to see an 
 eagle's eerie, which Brown had found out some days 
 previous in a mountain crag overlooking the sea; 
 Mrs. Percy and myself had both declined to accom- 
 pany the party of ladies who were to go aL i ir the 
 spot as the carriages could approach. 
 
 I had been writing for an hour in my own room. 
 I had written to both grandpapa and Ella, and with 
 a new volume my husband had purchased for me in 
 Edinburgh, I sought a pleasant little parlor, which, 
 with its balconied window, full of flowers, overlooked 
 the eastern lawn. 
 
 I threw myself on a sofa occupying a curtained 
 recess near the balcony, the fresh perfumed air from 
 which came softly through the lace curtains, making 
 it one of the most delightful retreats for repose or 
 study. 
 
 I had been reading for some time, and was deeply 
 interested in my book, when Mrs. Percy entered, 
 carrying a book in her hand, and sat down on a low 
 fauteuil out on the balcony. After her entrance I 
 
THE GRAND GORDON'S. 
 
 043 
 
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 did not think of her until I hoard a deep sigh, and 
 the words " a hard dt'(<itiny," uttered in a voice which 
 seemed full of emotion. I looked up in the direction 
 of the balcony where Mrs. Percy sat ; she was bending 
 over a lit lie occasional table placed beside the faiiteuil 
 I had ween her take as she entered; she had something 
 in her hand which seemed very like a carte rle visile. 
 
 She was holding it in one hand, with the other 
 she supported her head ; her hair hung over her 
 liand, co^'ing between her face and my sight, no that 
 1 could noi see how she looked ; slic lifted the carte 
 to her lips; I of co'"" "ae could not see the face on the 
 risite, Hit the Tinker's stamp was a large one, and I 
 di><tinctly ro; d "Notman, Montreal," in large letters 
 round the stamp. 
 
 I had seen a carte of Captain Percy, with a stamp 
 exactly similar, in the posseRsion of Abigail Smith, 
 and I had also seen the justly enraged woman spit on 
 the pictured face, tear it in pieces jiul burn it at the 
 ship lamp ; could it be possible that this which I now 
 looked upon, was a duplicate of that I had seen 
 destroyed on board ship ? was it possible, ^that after 
 all she had suffered, Mrs. Percy could btill love the 
 worthless wretch she had called husband f love his 
 memory, so as to induce her to sigh over and kiss 
 his photograph ? 
 
 I tried to think of all I had heard her say with 
 regard to her husband, and felt rather startled, as I 
 found it impossible to bring to my recollection one 
 unkind word of any kind which she had spoken on 
 the subject ! 
 
644 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 They have an old saying in England 
 
 " A woman, a hound, and a walnut tree. 
 The more you lash them, the better they be !" 
 
 Could human nature be constituted like this ? Mrs. 
 Percy's mind and heart fell to zero in my esteem. 
 As I looked at her and thought of the paradox her 
 mind and heart must be, poor Abigail Smith, with 
 her honest indignation against the bigamist and thief, 
 was to my mind the nobler woman of the two. 
 
 Some subtile link, some hidden chord in my 
 memory, brought me for an instant back to the stately 
 man with his handsome face and large heart I had 
 seen bending over Mrs. Percy's picture in the 
 midnight, years ago when we all thought Lady 
 Gordon lay dead in the house, and I felt almost a 
 loathing towards the woman who could slight the 
 love of the handsome, good and brave, and cling 
 with such tenacity to the memory of one who lacked 
 each quality of mind and body Hugh Seaton possessed. 
 
 While I still looked, she placed the visite in a white 
 envelope, and laid it between the leaves of her book. 
 At this moment, a loud cry of sharp pain came from 
 the lawn ; it was Leonora's voice ; in a second Mrs. 
 Percy was running down the balcony staircase 
 uhich led to the lawn. 
 
 In the hurry of running to her child, she had left 
 the book containing the photograph on the table, 
 inside the balcony. I went to the balcony, and sit- 
 ting down on the seat Mrs. Percy had just left, 
 
THE GRAXD GORDONS. 
 
 645 
 
 The envelope wns i» ^ i 
 qoesUon, ir I dared twit 7 ,?"*' ""^ ^ ''^'^ th„ 
 
 "iquiries as to what W K ** certainly make 
 
 obliged to confesT Ceif thr? °' "" ^ "-» ^e 
 suspect. *"*^ Mfs- Percy would at oj.ce 
 
 The wind stirrino. „ tr„« , i.- , , 
 over the balcouv, moveVn, . u'"* '''■''"'-''' '""■'ely 
 ^o that it touclied^yir' *; ^ ''='•'<''■ ''™"^hei^ 
 "'.d the envelope fell Vom 'n, u ''1'"' "' *« to"eh, 
 tvvo Photographs falliU f^ "t'h '""'' '° "'" ^'"""-^ 
 of which a view of McGr r n""'" ""'"'''"P^' »"« 
 «■'"' 'he picture upsMe tL ^'' *^°"'^^^'' ''^" 
 »'' fte floor, the sta„p th ^'"^ *« '^'^ 
 
 I had seen on the oTT' ""'""''■ exactly as 
 
 ip»t«yfootnt: ;tr,rh:f^" ?r' '^-'i^ 
 
 I am not naturalW of . , *" ^''^"'• 
 
 ^'"■cy this Mark of contlTtt f ■'r^'«on, and I 
 'evenge. Perhap. it ^^!''. f'f'<^ my desire of 
 anpl whispered, the ma, v 's rf' f!'' '"•^' ^"•■'^dian 
 
 felt my chuek burn wiO. il '' ' "' *" ^^'ent^ I 
 
 ^- the senseless p:::^?r-^^^^ 
 
 rpri:fdlt:t^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 P'-esented itself. ° ' ' ™"'**e the photograph 
 
646 
 
 THE GRAND GORDONS. 
 
 It was Hugh Seaton's pictured eyes that looked in 
 my face ! 
 
 The reaction from the painful feelings which had 
 disturbed my mind for the last quarter of an hour, 
 to the pleasant anticipations the discovery I had just 
 made, gave rise to, made ray heart beat with accele- 
 rated pace, as I replaced the photographs and envelope 
 in the little volume which J now saw was a beauti- 
 fully illustrated copy of Paul and Virginia, on the 
 fly leaf of which was written " From Hugh Seaton 
 to little Tiny," the date fourteen years previous. 
 
 On the second of the following December, while 
 sitting at breakfast, I received a large parcel which 
 was sent me by post, packed up in satin paper tied 
 with white satin ribbon, and perfumed most un- 
 mistakeably with the bridal rose. 
 
 It contained bridal favors and cards. The names 
 engraved thereon were " Colonel Seaton," " Mrs. 
 Hugh Seaton." On the corner of the lady's card 
 was her maiden name, " Margaret Grordon." 
 
 I sat for some minutes with the snow white mis- 
 sive in my hand, looking on them in a sort of 
 retrospective dream, and my thoughts went back to 
 the first time I saw Margaret Gordon, lying on a 
 pauper's bed among strangers who knew not her 
 V name, could not speak her tongue, tended by them 
 for the love of God ; and then my mind went back 
 to the terrible time she herself told me of, when she 
 8at in her loneliness in the Indian's hut, looking out 
 on her child's grave, a small blue bottle in her hand, 
 
THE GEAND GORDONS* 
 
 647 
 
 *' tempted of the Devil ;" and my soul rose in praise 
 to the Unseen Father, who, in all her woe and wan- 
 dering had hedged her in by His love and power, 
 and 1 involuntarily exclaimed. 
 
 " He hath indeed taken thee from the fearful pit 
 and the miry clay." 
 
 " The lines have fallen unto thee in pleasant places " 
 
 un- 
 
 THE END.